Breaking Tradition
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: (M/W implications) All of my life I had allowed my decisions to be based on the ideals of the Conclave, or my animosity towards my father. I hunted the transgenics by the whim of the Elders - I hated them as revenge towards Sandeman. But what exactly did I want?
1. Humanity

AN: Thank you to Enigma for breaking from the good old Jensen loving enough to make her beautiful M/W video 'Sweet Sacred Bliss'. It was valuable fuel for my muse! 

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**Breaking Tradition**

**by Sorrow**

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**Chapter One - Humanity**

You were chosen for me. 

It's the early ones who did the smart thing and they...

they got rid of the breeding host right away.

But I made one mistake - I fell in love with you.

* * *

_Every night, it's the same dream._

She's lying on the alter. The sacrificial victim - the one who's lifeblood will renew us and welcome in the next generation. A thousand years ago, there would have been no need to bind her. She would have faced death willingly, surrendered herself to the Goddess. There would have been no wild fear in her eyes as she stared wildly at the descending blade, her mind unable to accept her fate. 

But this woman does not take death so willingly. She cannot fight, but the heat in her eyes warrs a silent battle with the priestess above her just the same. Of course, it's futile to hope she'll be freed. And she's just beginning to realise this now.

I watch dispassionately from afar, but I can see her head turning slowly towards me as the ceremonial dagger plunges into her soft, firm belly. Ripping through skin, tearing the muscle, rupturing her womb so that she cannot bear children in the after life. In the moment before our eyes would meet, I have a sudden urge to laugh out loud. Not at her death, but at the bizarre notion of a spirit bearing children. My people adhere to the old ways, the beliefs of our ancestors. I don't dare to question the beliefs of my kind - they see my doubt and begin in turn, to doubt me. 

My eyes return to the woman lying on the stone slab. She tries so to hold in the screams, her body almost convulses with effort. I can't help but feel a certain sense of pride as she tries to prove that she is strong and that she's worthy of being one of us. But never could she match our strength. She _ feels_ too much, she lives with passion - as her kind tend to do - rather than purpose, like us. I'm sure that if she knew of our true purpose on this world, the knowledge would rip her soul right out of her. The broken heart would undoubtedly kill her. That's humanity for you. 

A whimper escapes and my head snaps forward once more. She has turned her head so that she cannot watch the final strike. And her gaze has fallen upon me. Now at last our eyes meet and I blanch to see that recognition has shadowed her pained expression. I am a cloaked man amid the mass of others, a spectator in the crowd. Yet she has found me. Her eyes then widen in horror. No doubt she realises who has betrayed her. All she has ever believed of me is ripped away. Now the face of the one she loves will be forever painted in the mask of death. 

As the blade is wrenched out from her flesh, her body arches in pain. Agony causes her head to jerk away from my direction. I clench my jaw tightly to stop from wincing. For a fleeting moment can feel her pain. Or perhaps it's simply a fleeting moment of guilt ripping through me. Neither are feelings I'm accustomed to experiencing.

Once, I shared this woman's thoughts. Through her I experienced the kind of emotions that selective breeding has all but eliminated from my race. My people are superior to humans in every way. The sentiments of humans make them frail. We don't suffer such sickness of the mind. Our decisions are made by cold calculation. Sympathy is not present to stop us from taking the life of our enemies. For centuries homo-sapiens have hidden their various weaknesses behind stone walls and weaponry. But take these things away, and in their natural element a human is weaker than Rex. The family dog. 

The Priestess raises her hand into the air once more, the sheen of the dagger's blade now hidden beneath blood as she adjusts her aim. But she doesn't yet deliver the final blow. Rather, she would revel in her victim's fear a few moments longer. My mind begins to whirl as I feel her pain and despair flood into me. Grimacing, I fight back such weakness and quickly glance to those around me. All eyes are riveted on the sacrifice before them, each mouth upturned into a thirsty smile. They too indulge in these waves of emotion like as if creatures starved. We should not crave the need to feel but silently - secretly within each of us - we do. 

* * *

_The woman lying on the alter is my wife, but this is not the way Wendy died. She died by my own hands, and I felt no remorse as I choked the life out of her. Only rage. _

_And so before the Priestess's dagger pierces Wendy's heart, the dream now takes a new turn. One much closer to the truth than what I've shared with you so far..._

* * *

The force of my kick snaps the lock and sends the door flying back against the wall. She flinches at the impact and turns to face me, her eyes widen in fear as her mouth drops open in horror. A typical expression to wear when one realises the final few moments of their existence now lie before them. 

Rage at my own sentimentality propels me forward. I rip the phone she clutches like a lifeline out from the wall, and send it flying across the room. Making an attempt at self-preservation, she picks up a paperweight and smacks it across my face. Even in her terror she tries to be strong. That's my Wendy for you. 

I don't so much as flinch. 

It's at this point she realises that she's not dealing with a crazed psycho of a husband, but rather a being unlike anything she could possibly imagine. A stranger that she had been married to for half of her life. Terror turns to horror once more. 

She looks at me as if I'm a monster, and if at any point I had begun to feel hestitancy, that look would undoubtedly have erased it. I'm no monster. I prefer to leave such name tags to the transgenic scum I've sworn to destroy. She would never understand that I'm superior to everything else that takes claim to human form. 

For a woman I claim to love, one may well be surprised by the jarring way in which I slam my fist into her face and send her flying onto the bed. As I remove my tie and begin to bind it around my hands, I even feel a smile twitch upon my lips. I wasn't bred to feel sappy human emotion. Love, laughter, joy, pleasure... it's so debilitating. 

Look at her - lying on the bed, begging for her life. 

If she hadn't allowed weak human sentimentality to bring her here, she could probably have lived to a ripe old age. But by going to 'Eyes Only', she endangered my entire race. Her inability to give up on Ray may well have brought us into the public eye. And then we too would be hunted. I was willing to let her slip through my grasp the first time, after all I did love her once. I cannot allow such weakness to effect my decisions again.

As the material wraps around her throat and her screams are reduced to a pitiful gurgle, I look into her eyes one last time. Blue eyes plead silently for mercy. Once upon a time, she believed in me. She loved me. And even now as she gasps for redemption, I know she loves me still. It's _pathetic_.

Her pleas cannot sway me. Nothing can extinguish the rage I have mustered up in order to carry out this task. My father allowed his feelings for my mother to cause his fall from grace. Through her, he developed affection for the entire human race. Already I have teetered too close to following his footsteps. Wendy has been allowed to live for far too long. 

Drawing the tie tighter around her throat, I continue to stare at her with an impassionate mask. I force myself to watch as the pressure of strangulation causes her beautiful eyes to bulge. Death is truly an ugly thing. But I take pleasure in her death as my heightened senses share her pain, allowing me to feel at last. And when that vibratant vivacious light finally fades from her eyes, I know that I'm truly released from my father's shadow.

* * *

_And there the dream ends._

Why is it that Wendy continuest to haunt me? Is it guilt? Lonliness? I hardly think so. But each night I lie in bed, knowing the dream will overcome me once my eyes close. And slowly but surely, I begin to fear sleep. 

Wendy was my weakness, the one similarity I shared with my father. I allowed sentimentality to take the place of reason. I broke tradition. That's just how it had begun with my father - and that's why in the end, Wendy had to die. But the irony is that no matter how far I run, no matter how many other lives I take, I can't run from my own dreams. That look of hurt and love which I witnessed in Wendy's eyes during her final moments of life will haunt me forever. 

My father allowed himself to be sucked in by sympathy for the human race. He allowed his love for my mother to turn him against his own kind. Because of his actions, he's forced me to endless try and claw my way out from shadow of his betrayal. The need to prove that my father's falsity is not a genetic failing has been my ambition for so long, I no longer remember what my driving force could have been it. I focus my waking thoughts on eradicating all signs of the obsession that drove my father away from the Conclave - and away from me. I've made this my personal vendetta so that I can prove my faith to both the Conclave, and myself. How Freudian that my life's purpose has been determined by my childhood.

But perhaps I _am_ bad blood. After all, I too broke tradition. I allowed Wendy to live beyond the life span of a _breeding host_. And I let myself develop emotions my kind are not supposed to feel. 

I loved her. Through her I had my first real taste of humanity. 

Now having experienced only a Familiar's rage and hatred for so long, it's a concept I have come to crave. 

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	2. Sign of Conscience

A/N: Thank you to the lovely people who've reviewed, I know White fics aren't high on people lists of favourites. But there's growing interest at TBW so I'm well at home there! Thanks for my fellow familiars who read over the tale, and Manticorians who also had this shoved down their throats. People are going to avoid me on msn soon... :p

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**Chapter Two - A sign of conscience**

Transgenic scum. 

You think those geeks with their chemistry sets and their gene banks and their greasy little paws are the future? 

You have no idea what you're up against. 

* * *

"Oh now what the hell is this?"

I eyed the creature with repulsion as it leant against the wall, its breath coming in ragged gasps. During the many months in which I'd been hunting lifes little abominations, I'd come across some of the most beautiful genetic freaks, and some of the foulest. This thing before me definitely tipped the scales of ugly. 

Struggling to draw in breath through the phlegm which rattled in its throat, the creature appeared to be choking to death. But it was obviously used to being in such a state, had probably suffered all of its life. How it had managed to live to maturity was beyond my ability to understand.

My father's parting gift before he abandoned me, was to leave me with a burning hatred of his creations - an obsession with cleansing the world of this kind of filth, and of humanity in general. Such was my hatred for him. But I couldn't help but feel a kind of pity for this genetic fuck up. My people may be regarded by some as cruel, but that's a misunderstanding. We'd never force such an atrocity to live. Allowing this beast to have suffered all of its life, for the sake of science? No. That is cruelty. 

Suddenly the thing barked (or gagged on spittle. It was hard to tell) and staggering forward, it coughed thick mucus up onto a pile at its feet. Calmly, I stepped back out of range and watched the faces of those around me with mild amusement. A room of NSA agents, and no one could believe the horror before them was real. Each grown man in the room was at once experiencing the same thought. There was truth in their childhood monsters after all. 

"Otto!" I snapped my partner's name like it was a command in its own, and at once my trusty sidekick materialised beside me. 

"Yes sir!" 

I glanced to the clumsy looking man. He seemed not at all concerned at the sight of this mutant before us. For a man who looked like an overwhelming encumbrance, one could mistake him for being nothing more than a mindless boar rather than my right hand man. A bore he was, but a boar he was not. Special Agent Otto Gottlieb was a more intelligent man than what people presumed to be. And he knew more about Manticore's sideshow freaks than what was his due right. 

"What the hell's wrong with this thing?" 

He raised a speculative eyebrow and shook his head. For once, even he was stumped. 

"I can't see it have been designed for any purpose. I would say it's just one of their earliest attempts." He shrugged. There really wasn't much else that could be said about the thing. 

"And they kept it around as a reminder of what _not_ to do?" I shook my head in disgust. "Well, it won't be breathing much longer." 

I pulled out my gun and prepared to take aim. 

"You're not going to have it sent to forensics?" 

I glanced to Otto. "I doubt they'd have any purpose for pulling this one apart. It's a freak even by Manticore's standards. Why make the thing claw for air any longer?" 

I nearly choked on my words, especially when I caught the fleeting look of surprise on Otto's face. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and asked my self the same question. Since when had I given a flying fuck about the misery of these beasts? 

Steeling my expression once more, I fired a shot at the mutant - a head shot which silenced it instantly. And then to be sure the thing was dead, I emptied my clip into its foul and lumpy flesh. 

Satisfied by its death, I turned to Otto. "Get rid of it." 

Without waiting for him to follow my order - I knew he would, I walked out from the room. I needed to get the image of the circus freak out of my head. And the fact that I'd sympathised with it for a fleeting moment left a sickly taste in my mouth.

* * *

Sector Police had brought the thing in for our disposal. Since the transgenics had cornered themselves up in Terminal City, the public had cried out for a clean up crew to take care of the mess. It was time for the NSA's covert group of transgenic hunter's to come out onto official records. A fact that had both benefits and drawbacks. 

As usual, this latest Manticorian had been captured in the sewers. You'd think that they'd come up with a less predictable means of travel by now. The thing had been making its way to Terminal City through a section of Seattle's pipelines that had been closed off since the toxic spill. The area was meant to be under guard, but after the various messes made in the past few months by both Sector Police and my own group, I decided to have a look around for myself. 

Blocking the images of today's sideshow attraction out of my head, I drove to the closest sewer entry to where it had been apprehended. I didn't want to think of how I'd actually felt sorry for the damn thing. What next? I stand on a street corner selling little Freak Nation flags on sticks, for the kids to wave? 

Chuckling at the image, I entered the sewer through an entrance hidden from public eye. A man in an immaculate suit stepping out of a black sedan and clambering into a sewage drain was hardly appropriate. But it was nothing new. I'd lost count of the times I'd billed the NSA for dry-cleaning. 

Threading my way through the tunnels in the direction of Terminal City, I came across no sign of the men who were supposed to be patrolling the area. Typical. They see one little freak and run away in fear. Idiots.

Why my father's creations chose to stay in Seattle was beyond me. Did they really think they'd be safe if they lumped together in plain sight of the world? Yeah right. They were sitting ducks. The government may have supported their existence when it suited their purposes and every thing was Secret Squirrel, but now that their existence was out in the open... no higher power would possibly support them. Not when the people of America were by far and large, calling for their deaths.

My race can match the speed and strength of any transgenic, if not surpass it. But there's nothing new in selective breeding. It's not unusual to breed out certain traits in animals in order to gain pedigree perfection, and although I don't like to compare my race to animals, the same rules of selective breeding can apply for humans too. It's not really that strange when you think about it. Familiars are just natural evolution with a little kick-start. Transgenics are the cheats way out. My father's solution. They're like additives and food colouring. Unnatural, nasty, and leave a bad taste in the mouth. Not that I've tried one... 

When my father turned his back on the Conclave, he left me to pick up the pieces of his betrayal and try to make a life out of the leftovers. It's been twice as hard for me to get where I am, as it has been for most familiars of my standing. My brother is a nutcase, my father a traitor. Needless to say, I'm perfectly aware that my every move is watched to ensure I don't show signs of any genetic flaw. I have no doubt that if such a thing were to happen, my life would be no more to the Conclave than the basement freaks were to Manticore. Except the Conclave would never dare to keep me hanging on. You can be sure I have no intention to shorten my life span. My kind are long lived, and I intend to make the most of this fact. 

I quickened my pace through the sewers, as my thoughts turned to Wendy once more. Would she never get out of my mind? No I think it was deemed my fate to suffer memories of her in place of conscience for killing her. Or maybe that's what a conscience is? I wouldn't know, I've never had need to consider such things until lately - now that the ghost of my dead wife was figuratively haunting me. Following me like a ball around my ankle. One I'd like to just kick out of sight - but I know it would snap back and smack me in the shin. 

Not that I'd feel it anyway. 

I had a good life with Wendy. Of course, the plan had never been for me to actually end up _loving_ her. I suppose you feel inclined to treat the idea of me being capable of love with scorn? Could Ames White actually love a mere human? Yes I could, and I did. I'll freely admit that at first she was nothing but a carrier for my children. I married her because she was deemed by the Conclave to have the right qualities for continuing my bloodline. And of course I did what I was ordered to do. Never would I think to question the wisdom that has ensured ten generations of selective bred perfection. 

* * *

Reminding myself to keep my mind on the job at hand, I shook my head and cleared my thoughts of the distractive past. I knew there had to be a way that these critters were getting in an out past the guards. Well, presuming there were ever guards in this damn place. One way or another, these transgenics had found a way to slip out from their self-imposed prison. 

Turning a corner, I suddenly found myself colliding head on with another person. Taken by surprise, I jumped back in alarm, the person opposite me mirroring my reaction. 

And then as she shook the hair out of her eyes, I found myself exchanging shocked stares with none other than my nemesis - 452. The elusive thorn that was forever in my side - now right before my face. 

I could have laughed at her expression. She wiped the look of fear in record time, but not before I caught a glimpse. Frozen, the transgenic stood before me like the proverbial deer caught in headlights, as if waiting for the fight or flight response to kick in with the most suitable option. 

"Well 452, you hang out in the sewers often?" I grinned as her eyes narrowed, a timely retorte no doubt forming itself in her head. "I suppose it's a suitable place for your kind - amid the rats and filth." 

"Oh. So that would explain why you're here then Ames?"

That familiar look of defiance had crept into her eyes as she answered in a deceptively sugar sweet voice. Briefly, I imagined how a casual backhand would wipe the smugness from her face. 

"Touché 452" 

With our short introductions over, her body tensed, ready to bolt. Springing forward, I grabbed her by the arm and threw her back against the slime covered tunnel wall, somewhat surprised that she hadn't anticipated my move. Her head cracked against the concrete. The sound sharp and painful, even to my tempered senses. 

Unfortunately she recovered well and launched herself at me, slamming her body into mine and propelling us both backwards. My feet slipped in the slimy film that clung to every surface of the sewers, and I landed hard on my back, 452 on top of me. 

Of course, that position didn't hold for long. Whether I shoved her away or she rolled herself, I found myself suddenly looking at her retreating back as she took off down the tunnel the way she had come. 

Refusing to let her get away yet again, I leapt to my feet and gave chase. I could match her speed and my fighting skills were more finely honed than hers. With a satisfied grin, I summoned an extra burst of energy and leapt, tackling her to the ground once more. Then as fast as I'd tackled to the ground, I was back on my feet and dragging her to her own. 

Holding her firmly by the chin until my fingers dug into her skin, I rotated her head towards me. "Think I'm letting you go 452?" 

Her fist connected square with my jaw and she jerked her head away, then delivered a swift kick to my stomach which threw me back a step, and nearly caused me to fall in the slime once more. 

Angered, I grabbed 452 by her upper arms and slammed her against the side of the tunnel, her body sliding slightly in the sewer scunge. Her eyes widened in alarm and pain as the air was suddenly forced from her lungs, and for a moment she could do nothing but try to regain it. Pressing my body against hers to inhibit movement, I grinned as she tried to squirm away, her efforts getting her nowhere at all. 

"What's wrong? Feel like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place 452?" 

In that moment, I think my own shock exceeded that of the transgenic's. There was far more suggestion in the quip than what I had intended. 

452 opened her mouth to fire out one of her trademark replies, but a look of utter confusion crossed her face and her jaw snapped closed again. For once she was well and truly speechless. Then the hard glint returned to her eyes and the next thing I knew, I was being shoved back into the opposite wall. 

"Don't you ever touch me again Ames White." Through clenched teeth she managed to grind the words out. You'd think I'd purposely violated her, with the way she was carrying on. 

Now that was an idea... 

"Oh get over it 452." I spat the words with a sneer, stepping towards her once more. "What, don't tell me you didn't enjoy our intimate little moment?"

I expected the foot that came lashing out at me, and I caught it easily, allowing an exaggerated sigh to provoke her further. "When did fighting you become so boring and predictable 452? What happened to the good old days huh?"

I lashed out and kicked the other leg from under her, causing the transgenic to crumple to the ground, rank sewage muck splashing up around her. Winded, she gasped for breath, and I laughed at the wince of pain she tried to suppress. "I mean, it used to be fun and exciting. You and me...battling it out... But now... it's just so routine and blagh! What's happened to us 452?" 

Now I flipped her onto her stomach and wrenched her arm far behind her back, pressing my knee into the small of her back with my full weight. The effort of biting back a cry was hampering her ability to speak. 

This was the point where she was mine for the killing. We both knew it. This was the moment I'd been waiting for and that she'd been hiding from. Before me was the perfect opportunity to bring back honour to my family name and destroy the one who was prophesised to bring about our downfall. 

With a smirk I couldn't hide, I pulled back and dragged the freak to her feet. Tugging her towards me once more, I grabbed her by the back of her head, my fingers twisting so tightly into locks of hair, she whimpered with pain. The fingers of my free hand travelled lightly across her throat, causing a sensation that no doubt clashed disconcertingly with the damage my other hand was doing. 

The look in her eyes at that moment brought back a wash of memories once more. What was it with me and nostalgia lately? I could see so much in those eyes that pleaded silently for life. Just as Wendy's eyes had been filled with fear for Ray even in the very last seconds of her life, I knew 452 would be thinking not of herself, but of the fellow freaks back in Terminal City. 

As my hands wrapped around her throat with intensifying force, I was reminded also of the blind girl in the sewers who I'd murdered a few months back. For no other purpose than to frame the canine transgenic who had been the source of public loathing a few months back. 

Why did I have to be struck by conscience now? 

"Damn you bitch." I threw the X5 backwards, shoving her roughly to the ground for the final time. I couldn't do it - not here in the sewers once more. Not without a fair fight. What the hell was wrong me? "Don't think I'm developing any kind of affection for you, _freak. _But you'll keep till next time." 

"Wha..." 

She fumbled over her words, no doubt too confused by my actions to speak. But I knew what she was asking. As with Otto earlier that day, I asked myself the same thing. 

"You made your pet dog show mercy to me during your stint at Jam Pony Express. I may not have a heart, but I have honour. Now we're even." 

I turned and stalked off back the way I had come, allowing her to drag herself back home. My words sounded fresh from countless Hollywood movies and I cringed inwardly. You'd think I could be a bit more original than that. 

Before I reached daylight, I threw my fist into a wall. Repeatedly. Smashing that wall over and over with my fists until my knuckles ran red with blood. Disgust for myself making me for once in my life, regret that I couldn't feel the pain.

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	3. Empire of Dirt

AN: Thanks Enigma and Rowe for bouncing around prophetic ideas with me! And thanks to the people who are reviewing - please continue! I really appreciate the feedback!!

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**Chapter Three - Empire of Dirt**

~

Your target's a little more than just a girl.

452 is a threat to everything we've worked for throughout the generations. Her death is our highest priority 

* * *

Days had passed since my confrontation with 452, and the itch to get my hands on her scrawny little neck and wring it, was growing worse by the minute. For now, government was content to let the transgenics remain in their pen, while they tried to decide whether they could reap any kind of financial gain from the mess. The current idea being tossed around within the White House was to give the creatures a false sense of security, allow them to believe they had amnesty, then round them up and sell them for spare parts. That idea was fine with me, as long as I could have the chance to mess up a certain few in the process.

But the Conclave was growing impatient with the wait. 452 was a threat to our existence and they wanted her head on the sharp end of a pike. And not just figuratively speaking. Senator McKinley was trying through the corrupt channels of government, to gain us official permission to raid Terminal City and seize the leaders of the rat hole. 

But the idea wasn't sitting well with those whose loyalty we hadn't succeeded in buying. It was a delicate issue - especially when we were supposed to be in negotiation with the freaks. Believe it or not, there were actually some sympathisers for the transgenics holding seats of power. Not many, but enough to make an abrupt move for their annihilation far messier than what it was worth. 

So as usual, I had to do the job unofficially. 

There were two teams. One, the ordinary men who had worked with me back in the good old covert days. These men were assembled at the mouth of the tunnel where I had found 452. The other group were waiting within an abandoned building outside of Terminal City. They were the Phalynx. And they had some payback to do. 

Once I'd given the covert group of humans the all-clear to proceed with the mission, I ripped off my headset and laughed. They were going to be running around like headless chickens all morning. 

I knew without doubt that the transgenics would have blocked the tunnel they had been passing through up until now. Though just to be on the safe side, I'd had a slight memory lapse when sending my men to the area. Whoops. Now I recalled it being a mile or so in an entirely different direction. 

Giving my group of Phalynx a nod, all but the redhead dissolved into the fading darkness. Thula waited for them to leave before turning to me. "I'm going to tear that transgenic bitch to pieces." 

Shaking my head, I suppressed a grin. Her voice was so monotone it was comic. "No. Leave her to me." 

"I don't think so. That one's mine. Besides little brother, I think you're a little too fond of that transgenic bitch to follow orders with a clear head." She set her expression in a self-satisfied smirk, thinking to belittle me. 

Angered, I stepped forward and grabbed her throat, squeezing the flesh tightly although it had no effect on her anyway. "For someone who claims to be a topline warrior, your last attempt to eliminate her was somewhat _humorous_ to say the least. _Leave her to me._ Once I get what I need out of her, you can play with your little friend all you like. But until then, find yourself another freak to bounce around the room." 

This time she did laugh as she grabbed my wrist and twisted it away. "Whatever little brother. Let's see who gets to her first." 

Flashing a humourless smile, she stepped back, turned and leapt out of the four story window, leaving me so enraged I wondered just how satisfying it would be to see the X5 kick _her_ ass. Picking up a decrepit desk and hurtling it into an already damaged wall, I then stalked over to the object and drove my boot into it a few times until I could see another colour other than red. Then I took the same exit as Thula. Out the window, over the fence and into Terminal City. It was so damn easy.

* * *

"Okay guys, we need to do another supply run. As much as I love Joshua's culinary delights, I'm beginning to wonder if there's more to life than mac and cheese." 

"Don't forget the lil' lil' hot dogs." 

From the rafter's, I watched 494 and the pet dog joke around as they sat at a table amid an assorted group of lifes little abnormalities. At the head of the table, 452 sifted through a small pile of papers, occasionally stopping to hit one of her little pal's across the head. Mainly 494. The circus clown in the freak show. 

For now at least, I was content to stay in the rafters and watch the scene play out below me. There was no doubt I was learning something of these creatures from watching them. In fact I was willing to bet the key way to get 452 spill the beans on the whereabouts of Ray, was to torture her friends. My pick was the dog boy. Her tone softened significantly every time she directed a comment to him. But he was the one animal in the pack that I didn't want to go up against. I hate to admit fear, it's certainly a feeling I don't make a habit of experiencing, but that one was a challenge I wasn't keen to take up. He had a strength that I doubt even his friends were aware of. And if it weren't for 452 calling on him to let me go at the conclusion of the Jam Pony saga, I surely would have died that day. 

452 seemed particularly fond of hitting at 494 - or perhaps hitting on? I couldn't be sure. Although she treated him with less respect one would allocate to a household fly, he seemed happy enough to put up with it. Perhaps it was some kind of little sex game they had going - a bit of public humiliation to stoke the fire? Shit. If I weren't so secure in my perch I could have fallen right onto that table below at the mental image gained from that one. Grimacing, I reminded myself to never think such repulsive thoughts of the mating rituals of animals ever again. 

This soldier was definitely one I had to watch out for however. I'd seen him cage fight, and I grudgingly had to admit he'd put up a good effort at Jam Pony despite his injury. I looked forward to seeing just what he was capable of when he and I at last came face to face. As we undoubtedly would - 494 seemed to be Max's shadow. But the guy was so slippery I almost wondered if he had a bit of snake DNA in him. Already he'd wriggled out of certain death after I embedded a micro-explosive into his skull. There must be truth in the saying of cats and their nine lives. 

Sitting opposite 494 was the overly large lizard who I'd fought once before during the Jam Pony fiasco. Leaning back on his seat, a cigar dangling from his mouth, feet on the table, and shotgun cradled in his arm, he was the perfect image of absolute disrespect. If this was the transgenics' usual morning meeting, I was astounded at the complete lack of formality. Weren't these creatures trained to be soldiers from birth? Weren't they taught orderliness, discipline, and respect? 

Obviously times had truly changed for them since leaving Manticore and foolishly too. The smallest military procedure had flown straight out the door, no doubt their fighting skills weren't so finely tuned anymore either. 

Were they that keen to escape the memory of their former home, that they would let self-discipline run so quickly into the ground? It seemed the answer to that question was a firm yes, and I silently chuckled at how my father would react if he were to see his failures now. This transgenic nation was more like an empire of dirt.

Filing that revelation away for another day, I quickly came to the conclusion that the lizard and 452 had little affection for each other. From what I could see of this meeting, he was constantly undermining her 'authority' and seemed more content to contradict her with insults than to pay attention to anything else being said. I decided I could almost like this creature. There was a little more depth to him than what he revealed. Between his various and creative curses regarding 452's lineage, he was taking in everything that was being said. And I had the feeling that no matter what she decided, he was going to do his own thing anyway. Judging from the contemptuous looks he occasional exchanged with 494, they had their own game running of which 452 had no idea. 

The man who sat opposite 452 I knew to be the _Eyes Only_ contact whom Wendy had initially sought to recover Ray. Judging by 452's ignorance to the sub-plots taking place around her, there was a good chance _he_ was the one who knew where my son was. 

There were two others sitting at the table. A couple of the ugliest anomalies I'd seen. I knew there were quite a few mutants who'd never made the grade. From what I had so far learnt, they had been forced to live forever in the cells beneath Manticore. These two creatures below me had obviously traded their basement existence for an equally pathetic life within this hole. I ommited them from my list of possible threats. Judging by the semi-organised chaos I'd so far witnessed within Terminal City, I doubted anyone had ever bothered to give them much more than basic self-defence training. 

As I waited for my team to take their positions, the conversation turned from supply runs at last, and I listened with interest to what was being said.

* * *

"Luke has any progress been made yet on contacting someone who can read the runes?" 452 was studying the newest batch which had begun appearing over her arms. 

"No not yet Max. The alphabet has never been properly deciphered. In fact there's little known about the Minoans at all. Why Sanderman didn't use a language we could actually _work_ with, I don't know." The question was answered by the scrawny little creature with the pixie features. 

"Well obviously he never anticipated that he would suddenly have to pack up and leave before he had the chance to teach her. We've been over this before Luke." The Eyes Only contact stifled a look of impatience and folded his fingers together as he leant back in his seat. 

The anomolie with the misshapen head and lens strapped across his eye, jumped in on the conversation. "Yeah but - why didn't he just start teaching her from day one? Why wait? If she's walking around wearing this prophesy on her skin, wouldn't he be capable of some sort of foresight?" 

The canine growled, and I watched as 494 shot out a hand to hold him in place. "Stay doggie-dog." 

"Father wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing." 

It never ceased to amaze me that these things could talk, but it certainly made me cringe to hear this dog call _my_ father _his_ father. The suggestion of me sharing any sort of family with this... insult to life, was enough to make me want to pull out my gun right now and land a bullet between its eyes. 

"I'm not saying he was _stupid_ Joshua. I'm just saying that there's got to be more to this than what we realise. Max, you said CJ was familiar with the language, and that White appeared to read it fluently, right?" 

452 nodded her head, a puzzled and somewhat hesitant expression on her face, no doubt wondering just what the creature was getting at. 

"Well if Sanderman was one of the good guys, _why_ did he use their language?" 

"Because once upon a time he was a big bad familiar of course."

"Was - or still is?" 

"Whatever you're trying to say Dix, I'm not liking it. Sounds to me that you're trying to suggest that I - we - tie in more with these cult loonies than we realise. And I think you're taking this entirely out of context." 

"But think about it Max! CJ told you that Sanderman wanted to change things with science and technology right? He wanted to test people for their strength against this pathogen without facing possible death?

"Yeah, because he knew CJ wouldn't survive the initiation. But the Familiars objected the suggestion - said it was heresy." 452's facial muscles twitched with the effort of holding back her frustration at this round of questioning, and I almost wanted to clap for this genetic oddity. Who could have known something so ugly could posess so much perception? 

"Exactly! It doesn't mean that he was _against_ the whole idea of world domination or whatever the hell it is that they're striving for. He could have simply wanted to bring the breeding cult away from their old fashioned methods. Sounds to me like he was simply more cynical about the religious side of things than the rest - that and the fact he didn't want to lose his son. They didn't like it so they kicked him out. Then he went elsewhere to continue with his idea of making Familiars with a built in immunity..." 

"Stop it Dix! I don't want to hear anymore!" 452's calls for silence were seconded at last by the others at the table. All except 494 who wore a speculative look on his face. 

I knew what the quasimoto was getting at, and I'd heard enough reminders of my father's betrayal for one day. Sandeman's talk of the meek inheriting the earth set him apart from my kind. His cause was one of complete opposition to everything we'd worked for. Of that I had no doubt. There was no place in this world for those who weren't strong enough to survive what was coming. He'd used a few spare parts to engineer these freaks to be like us and given them the addition of instant immunity. And then he'd expected us to embrace such a cutting edge scientific breakthrough. Yeah, right. Without any doubt, the transgenics were opposition, and they had to be destroyed. And the first step in going about this task lay in taking out those that sat below me now. The leaders. Once they were out of the picture, the rest of this transgenic nation would collapse.

"Max - are you okay? What's wrong?"

As I looked down to see what the drama was now, a sensation washed over me, a blur of thoughts and voices. The building I was in faded into blackness, and for a moment I felt completely detatched from my body as my mind touched upon those of my fellow Familiars. It was time. The Phalynx were ready. 

But all of a sudden, I'd developed a really bad feeling.

Snapping my eyes open, I looked down into the face of 452. She was staring straight up at me, a wild look of horror on her face. How could she have suddenly seen me?

"Everybody scatter- now!"

I was astonished - what the hell was happening? Without question to her command, the transgenics began to flee to positions of defence. 

Just as my group came crashing in.

I dropped from the rafters and landed upon the back of the lizard. He collapsed to the ground beneath my sudden weight and I immediately drove my elbow into the back of his neck. It dazed the creature but his skin was like armour and he shook me off. I leapt to my feet before he had a chance to regain his own, and kicked his legs out from under him when at last he did. 

Pulling out my gun, I prepared to shoot when his foot came up and sent it spinning across the room out of reach. Then rolling away before I could kick him once more, he jumped to his feet and met my next move with a block before stepping forward and swinging a punch. I smacked it aside only to have his other fist drive into my face, sending my head rocking backwards from the force of the blow. Smiling at the lack of pain it caused, I dropped to a crouch and lashed out a leg, bringing him to the ground again. 

Effortlessly picking up the table around which the transgenics had been sitting, I sent it crashing over the top of the lizard, hoping to knock him out long enough to finish my original task - reaching 452 before Thula did. A bullet whizzed by to my right, and I spun around to see that wolfboy had spotted me. From the look on his face, I gathered that he was still harbouring resentment over the death of his blind friend in the sewers. 

There was definately a bad feeling developing in the pit of my stomach.

This was all wrong. We should have taken them out without any noise or mess. Not this banging and crashing and gun fire that was going on now. Any moment now they'd have backup - surely not a set of ears in Terminal City could be oblivious to our fight. I could just get hold of 452... 

"Ah White! Buddy!"

Before me appeared X5-494, grinning away like an idiot. Foolishly, I was taken aback by the cheerful facade just long enough to not even notice the hard fast fist, until it slammed into my head. You know, I almost had to admire him for that one.

From what I had seen of 494's cage fights, I had an idea of what I was up against. I came at him hard, throwing punches as rapidly as he, matching him blow for blow, sometimes on the defence and sometimes the offence. His skill was better than 452's, his moves more aggressive. He wasn't one for fancy flips. His tactics were that of a well oiled machine. I deflected a punch that came at such speed it would have grounded the average person - permenantly. 

As he took his next swing, I caught his wrist, tired of the game at last. Twisting his arm, I jerked it up before bringing my elbow down upon the limb, grinning as I heard the snap and then laughing as I watched his face crumple in pain. Knowing that wouldn't be enough to stop 494, I threw my fist into the side of his head with enough force to cause a human to slip into a coma, and then stepped over his body as he collapsed to the ground unconscious. 

Turning away, I searching the room to check on the status of dog boy - he was still fending off the Phalynx. Momentarily secure from my only real threats, I then focused my attention on finding my target.

* * *

Thula had cornered 452 and was busy attacking her as if life were one big wrestling match. 452's catch phrase may have been 'I'll kick your ass' but Thula was more like, "I'll grind your bones to make my bread'. The fact the transgenic had lived up to her own motto the last time was pure fluke. 

I strode towards them as the red head was about to drive the X5's head into the concrete floor - again. Pulling Thula away, I flung her backwards and back into the fray. Her eyes were aflame and I groaned inwardly, realising she had no intention of adherring to the orders I'd given her earlier. Shoving past me, she flung herself at 452 again. The transgenic was still in the process of crawling to her knees. She'd kept up fairly well to be able to claim a hold on consciousness still, but the Phalynx had obviously given her a work out she wasn't ready for. It was funny how tables could be turned when she didn't have a pair of handcuffs to slap on her enemies wrist and tape to bind. 

"Enough already!" Once more I pulled the Phalynx away and held her back from the transgenic. "You'll get your turn later - now _back off_."

Thula stood panting like an enraged bull, while 452 stared up at us, hardly daring to move. I blocked her out of my peripheral vision, focusing my full attention on the Phalynx before me. She was reluctant to take orders, especially from me, a fact that made me half wish once more, that I could have had the satisfaction of seeing 452 get more than a few good shots in.

Backing away, the Phalynx wiped away the blood that trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Don't kill her before I do."

I nearly pointed out the complete lack of sense in the sentence, but opted to let it slide. Her genetic line was bred for fighting, not intelligence. Instead I was thankful just to see the Phalynx's retreating back. Walking over to 452, I crouched before her and fixed her with a smirk. "Now, shall we chat about my son?"

With a sudden smirk of her own, she replied, "I don't think so."

Sensing someone behind me entirely too late, I began to turn but a hand reached down and saved me the effort. Instead I found myself being picked up and hurtled across the room. Rolling and coming back to my feet meters later, I began to take a defensive stance, but the canine was right before me, lifting me by the throat and forcing me to stare into eyes engulfed by rage and shining with the knowledge of my now certain death. 

As the fingers around my throat began to squeeze, I was glad for the training that had conditioned my brain so that I couldn't feel pain. 

"You killed Annie."

Three words. Damn I could really regret doing that right about now. But I refused to try and choke out an apology. It wouldn't save me, and I'd rather die than give him the satisfaction of thinking I would try and bargin for my life with words we both knew to be empty. His grip tightened further, the blackness of unconsciousness began to chase out any attempt at coherent thought. 

"But Max is right. Killing you isn't going to bring back Annie. It'll only make me just like you - an animal."

His words broke into the darkness as he released me, allowing me to fall into a pathetic heap on the ground. As I gasped for air, I realised his mercy was a double edged insult. He has insulted me by allowing me to live, and he had insulted me by suggesting that _I _were the animal, not _him_. Smart mutt. I hoped that some day soon I'd get a chance to put the damn thing down.

As I began to stand, I noticed there were a significant amount of transgenics now in the building, but the Phalynx were out of sight. What the hell was going to happen now? 

The question was quickly answered when the lizard stepped forward from the crowd and strode towards me. 

"Aw fuck this Joshua, what are you showing him mercy for?" 

Before I could react, the reptilian raised his fist and brought it crashing into my temple, and that's when the blackness took over at last.

* * *


	4. Weakness

    

_A/N: Thanks so much to Rowe, Enigma and Northern Star for their advice and tolerance towards my incessant babble._ ;-P 

* * *

Breaking Tradition

Chapter 4 - Weakness

You know, 452, you're much prettier than in your picture

* * *

"So Ames, how does it feel being the one dangling from chains? How does it feel to be _weak_ and _vulnerable_?" 

I had woken up to find myself hanging upside down from the same rafter where I had previously perched. Standing behind 452 were the freaks who she had been sitting at the table with. This time all they held guns and wore wary expressions as if half fearful that I'd do a David Copperfield and slip loose from the ropes that bound my wrists and ankles. 

At 452's question, I felt my face twitch with barely controlled anger and took a deep silent breath to calm myself. I was hardly thrilled to be their living piniada but I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of knowing this.

"Get over yourself 452. Do you think you and your freaky little friends scare me? No 452, you _bore _me."

As she stepped closer, my eyes subconsciously ran down her body until they came to rest on the hips which swayed with each measured step. Catching myself, I felt the self-disgust rise to my throat like bile and choked it back down again. Clearing my eyes of all emotion as they met hers, I gave her a mocking smile, wondering if I should have allowed my gaze to linger longer, knowing the self-revulsion would be worth it to watch her squirm with discomfort beneath my stare. 

Ignoring my contempt, 452's eyes drifted over my face, her breath brushing my cheek. About to growl out an insult to her, I had the words on the tip of my tongue when I noticed the small smile on her face. She was enjoying the power-trip that came of having me hanging here like this. The little control freak probably got off on having men to crunch beneath her boots, be they willing or not. I suppressed a chuckle. It seemed that was something we had in common. Deciding I'd rather not let her see she was effecting me with her little game, I held back my words. Anything she could do - I could do better.

"What were you hoping to achieve?" Though she spoke softly, 452's voice had a hard edge, as if she were carefully trying to control her anger, perhaps thinking she would get answers out of me if she tried asking nicely first. 

I wanted to laugh at her attempt to fool me into believing she wasn't scared. Not only had we gained access to Terminal City's headquarters, but I'd sat and watched the absurdity that was their morning meeting unfold below me. I could have taken them out any time I wanted had I not another agenda in mind. This invasion of territory showed the transgenics just how slack they had become. To say they were both furious and embarrassed was an understatement. Knowing I'd ruffled their feathers, scales, fur and whatever else these things had growing on them, was a great source of amusement for me. Even as I dangled before them.

"Oh you know, I thought I'd drop by for a quick game of _Identify the Animals in Noah's Ark._ I'm sure you're familiar with that one?"

"Why don't you quit with the attempts at witty banter Ames. It's not a talent you possess." 452 spoke the words quietly in a clipped and edgy voice, never diverting her glare from me. Deliberately ignoring her and maintaining my smirk, I continued to speak.

"Oh don't be like that 452! You should be an expert at that game by now!"

I grinned, one thing these transgenics hates was the reminder that they were made from an assortment of odds and ends. 452's face was expressionless but nothing could hide the anger that smouldered in her eyes.

"I said shut up Ames." 452 stepped away out of sight and returned with a tazer. Perhaps she was seeking poetic justice but there was little good it would do her. The worst she could do with the thing was knock me unconscious, and I welcomed such a thought.

"The aim is to try and figure out just what the fuck kind of animals Sanderman put into you freaks. I mean, I thought the dodo has been extinct for years but you lot are so fucking _thick headed _that -"

The tazer struck my stomach and the electrical charge caused my body to convulse. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and focused on closing off the threat of pain. From the moment I realised I was their captive, I had been preparing my mind for whatever torture they would try to inflict upon me. These animals probably intended to push my limits, but they would find that there was no limit to my self-control. 

Once the spasms wore off, I opened my eyes to find my view blocked by the cloth of my shirt which had ridden down my chest. The room was silent as they waited for a reaction from me. I wondered if I should feign unconsciousness to understate my strength but my ego wouldn't allow it. I was in a vulnerable state, but I refused to be _weak_.

"Is that the best you can do 452? I would have thought you'd have enough practice kicking your little gimps around to be better skilled in B&D." 

452 ripped my shirt away from my face, her face contorting in anger. My smirk failed me. Having to look at these freaks upside down was a torture in its own, what with a direct view up 452's nose and all. Yanking my hair, she pulled my face towards her, 

"If you haven't noticed, you're in no position to be mouthing off. Being that every person in this room would like to see you gutted, I once again suggest that you _shut the fuck up_."

She released her hold and swung me back as she stepped away. For a moment, her eyes flickered over my exposed chest and briefly widened in surprise at the sight of my toned torso. I tensed my muscles, causing them to ripple and her to watch in fascination before catching herself and allowing the mask of disgust to fall over her face once more. I was surprised 452's instincts would betray her enough to look at a hated enemy in such a way. It seemed she wasn't as self-controlled as she would like to think. I smiled at the enjoyment I could reap out of using this knowledge against her.

"I'm sensing a lot of unrelieved sexual tension from you 452." My voice involuntarily dropped to a deepened husk, which proved to make my words even more effective. How amusing. I was the one being publicly humiliated, yet she was the one whose face was turning various shades of pink. "Perhaps you should tell your friends over there to leave the room?"

Behind 452, the canine growled low in warning. I glanced to him, wondering if they kept the thing on a leash. He stood with his arms tightly folded across his chest. No doubt fighting the primordial urge to tear me limb from limb. 

"Watch your fucking mouth!" 494 leapt up and stalked towards me, as the Eyes Only informant stepped forward to join him. Feral anger radiated from the male X5 as he drew his uninjured arm back to take a swing at me, while the human bounced a baseball bat in his hands, a grim smile on his face. An injured transgenic and a human - I wondered just how brave they'd be if I weren't tied down and unable to fight back.

"Hey! I can handle him myself!" With 452's anger suddenly aimed at them rather than me, I threw back my head and laughed, wondering if they realised how much their little vixen in shining black leather was getting a kick out of playing the dominatrix. Lowering her voice, she ushered them away, "I'm in charge here okay?"

"Yeah leave her alone. She's enjoying the power trip." I threw the comment in and waited with amusement for the reaction.

As 452 turned back towards me, her eyes dark and predatory, I expected that she would use the tazer on me again and focused on relaxing my entire body in preparation. Instead the transgenic stepped closer and brought her mouth to my ear, her voice low and dangerous as she spoke, sending an unwanted shiver though me because of it. 

"I had no intention to stop Joshua from killing you today. And I assure you that I have no qualms against finishing the job myself."

She pulled away, her eyes meeting mine, her expression unreadable. This time we were playing for the big bucks, no mercies were to be offered on either side. The fact that I was alive even now surprised me, and being that I was strung up and defenceless, it probably wouldn't pay to push my luck. 

And so I smiled, bored of this staring competition we were playing.

"_Joshua_." I slowly drawled the name, sarcasm thick in my voice. "Oh how sweet. And what did you name your other pets 452?"

"Father - father named me!" As the mutant jumped to its feet and strode over to me, I cringed at its use of the word _father_ once more. 

"Why must you _insist_ on calling Sanderman your father?" Frustrated rage began to pulse through my blood, finding no release and thus churning within me more.

"Because he was. He was my father." With the dog-man now standing before me, I fervently wished once again that I wasn't dangling upside down. These freaks were ugly enough when I was viewing them the right way up. 

I didn't want to consider the possibility that Sanderman could have defiled our most sacred traditions any further than he already had. Creating fake replicas of our ancient race through the manipulation of animal and human DNA was blasphemous in itself. And if he had used his own genes in this freak before me... No. I refused to believe it. Enough lines had been crossed already without adding an extra one.

"Oh give me a break." Rolling my eyes, I turned my head away, hoping he'd shut up and scuffle back to his post.

"He was! He named me Joshua. Said I was _special_." 

A massive hand reached out and grabbed my hair, pulling me up so that I was no longer upside down and our heads were at even levels. As much as I was glad to have the blood drain back out from my face at last, the dog-man's fetid breath blowing across my nostrils truly did test my capacity to hold onto conscious thought. 

"I was the first. Sanderman called me his son. That would make _you_ my brother." Though the freak grinned, the smile didn't reach his eyes. 

I knew that although this sub-animal had shown mercy for my life twice, hatred for me burned blacker within it than any other of Sanderman's creations. He was a basement creature and had spent his life waiting to see the light. Without doubt I knew his patience equalled his physical strength, and for now the monster within him was prepared to wait. Meanwhile to whitle away the time, he seemed happy to wind me up. And unfortunately, my loathing for this creature and anger at his suggestions, caused my temper to rise to the bait.

"You don't get it _Scooby_ . The only thing special about you is that you were the first _freak_ to actually survive outside the womb of your poor surrogate mother. That doesn't give you claim to my bloodline. But I don't expect you to possess the intelligence to understand these things."

At my words the transhuman released me and laughed, causing my anger to mount. He held _me_ in contempt. As if it knew some great secret that I wasn't privvy to - as if it knew _more_ than me. But no, that wasn't the worst thing. Walking away after giving me that laugh, retaining this information that I was suddenly certain I had to know - that was the red cloth waving in front of my face.

"You can quit strutting about as if you claim a shred of higher intelligence - you're a fucking _dog_!" 

Black rage began to blind my vision and I wrestled with my mind for some platform of rational thought - some self-control. I knew I shouldn't let him get to me, but I wasn't used to being ignored. And I certainly wasn't used to being laughed at. As far as stupid transgenics go, I began to wonder if this canine was more intelligent than the rest of them. Beating me, subjecting me to electric shock... none of these things had any effect on my mind, and little effect on my body. But by waving secret knowledge of my father in front of my face and then ignoring me - _laughing_ at me even... that tore at my insides far worse than any knife could. 

And somehow I think the hulking creature that stood before me now knew this.

A movement to my right caught my eye and once again the tazer struck my chest. The seemingly endless electrical pulse sent my body into convulsions once more, these ones stronger than the last. I released my hold on conscious thought, allowing my mind to slip mercifully into the blackened void of complete unawareness. Escaping this sideshow nightmare at last. 

* * *

When I woke from my second bout of unconsciousness, I was now released from the rafter and tied to a chair. Around me were several transgenics of varying degrees of Ugly. No one payed any attention to me, confident that I couldn't escape. I tried to move my hands, testing for some way to wriggle myself free. As I'd already guessed, there wasn't the slightest hint of slack in the ropes. 

My mind played over the previous hours, pulling apart each one of 452's words and actions, my attention focused on finding a weakness I could use against her. Again and again my thoughts fell back to the way her eyes had briefly raked over my bare chest. My treacherous mind then lingered on the memory of my own body's reaction to her stare and I breathed slowly through my teeth in frustration. I was used to being the one in control. That I could even be considering such thoughts about a creature lowlier than an _animal_ set my stomach churning with absolute disgust. But the thought lingered non the less. In the process of discovering 452's weakness's I seemed to be in turn finding my own.

"Hey Max, ya pet pain in the ass is awake."

The lizard who I'd encountered on a few occasions now, gestured towards me before turning back to the conversation he was having with a couple of equally offensive looking fellow salamanders. I leant my head as far back as I could and closed my eyes, forcing un-beckoned thoughts from my head. I certainly wasn't in the mood for dealing with Miss Mortal Enemy right now.

"What the hell can you tell me about these?" My head was yanked forward and I found 452 standing over me, a fierce expression on her face as she pushed a bare forearm in front of my eyes.

I glanced down at a fresh set of runes that covered her skin and frowned at them slightly before returning my eyes to hers and delivering a slow mocking smile. "What makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

"Tell me, and I'll tell you what I've done with your little friends." 452 spoke softly, pushing out her hip as she folded her arms across her chest. Her expression that of one who truly thought she had the ball in her court.

Laughing, I shook my head. "Like I care."

"Oh I think you do care Ames. After all, your little Familiar mob bosses won't be happy with _you_ if we send them back in pieces." 

"You should have left the interrogation tactics to someone more skilled 452." Doubt briefly touched upon her face before she replaced it with annoyance once more. Smirking, I continued. "I know that you couldn't have the first idea as to where to send such pieces... besides, regardless of how much you try to deny it, you just don't have the stomach for killing."

Her mouth formed a moody pout as her eyes narrowed. "Yeah well, your dropping in on us this morning has forced me to revise that particular moral."

"Whatever 452." I laughed and turned my head away, my eyes wandering across the room at the slip-shod headquarters they continued to hold me in. 

At a small table, 494 was busy playing a card game, though he would occassionally glance in our direction. No doubt checking to make sure I hadn't morphed into a snake and slipped free of my ties.  
  
With twisted curiousity, I studied his four companions. Two appeared human enough -X5's I guessed. But the freak opposite 494 had obviously suffered an excessive amount of feline DNA if the ears, eyes and tail were anything to go by. It was more fortunate however, than the creature beside it, who looked as if someone had thrown a handful of shark teeth into its mouth and left them to grow in which ever direction they had fallen. Shuddering in revulsion, I averted my eyes, feeling suddenly like a character from a Lewis Carroll's story. What the hell was my father thinking when he allowed these things to live? 

Sensing 452 move closer, I continued to ignore her even as she crouched before me and leaned in to take my chin much the way as I had done with her when our roles had been reversed, and force my head to swing back around.

"We've got your pro-wrestler team locked away. We have a fully restored laboratory - your father's legacy he left to us. And we've got more than a few transgenics just _itching_ to find out what makes your kind tick."

"Aah 452. What a team we could be if our circumstances were only different." I made sure that the sarcasm in the statement was obvious for those who were a little slower than me to comprehend. But for a moment my mind was invaded by the brief memory of my body pressed intimately against hers, and I tried to hold in the involuntary shiver that ran through me. Self-disgust swept in to chase the memory away, and I continued in a voice suddenly dry and raspy. "But you know, you just don't sound convincing." 

Releasing her hold on my jaw, 452 pushed away from me, her expression sullen and moody. I could just imagine her stomping her feet in a tantrum and the image brought a satisfied smirk back to my face once more. Her eyes locked on mine as her scowl deepened further. There were so many weaknesses in this piece of transgenic scum before me, I couldn't decide what part of her to pick at first. 

"Joshua!" Tightening her jaw, 452 turned away from me and beckoned to the pup. As he lumbered over to her side, I couldn't help but briefly wonder if the pooch was house trained. "Is our _guest _room ready?"

"Uh yeah Max. It's ready." The canine glanced down at me, his face impassive. "Do you want me to take him there?"

"Yeah, please. I'm growing tired of his ugly face." 

The dog-man leant down and began to untie me from the chair, while I offered my captor a knowing grin. "Be honest with yourself 452. You don't _really_ think that do you?"

Setting her jaw in an angry scowl, the X5 folded her arms tightly across her chest, her eyes darkening with suppressed anger as she tried not to rise to the bait.

"And when you come back, we'll deal with his buddies." 

As Sanderman's first successful mutant began to lead me away to what I presumed would be a bare concrete room and a couple of 24 hour guards outside the door, I chose to remain silent, knowing anything I said would only be thrown back in my face. And I prefered to reap the satisfaction in knowing how much it would irritate the X5 if I gave her no further excuse to try and taunt me.

452's eyes burnt with black emotion as they caught hold of mine, but in that moment, I was unsure who the hatred was directed to. Me - for hunting her and in turn causing the world to hunt her kind. Or herself - for not understanding why she continued to allow her greatest enemy to breathe.

* * *


	5. Filth

__

A/N: So what do you think... Is White is too nice? Is White's too mean? Has the word 'freak' has been overused for the past three chapters...?? Are people deeply offended by my ritualistic slaughter of modern grammar and spelling? Just wondering. :D

Ooh and thanks Rowe who kick started with the UST in Chapter 4, and Enigma who delved into Alec's head and pulled out some lines. And thanks Firehand for sharing your random thoughts - and everyone else who R&R's!!!

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****

Breaking Tradition

Chapter Five - Filth

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"Give it a last meal; we don't want to be accused of being inhospitable."

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****

The room the transgenics had shoved me into was everything I'd expected it to be. They had truly spared no expense in displaying their finest of accommodation. Though with a guest like myself, I really thought they would have gone for the high security approach. These crumbling walls looked as if they'd collapse if I so much as leant against them. 

The hastily boarded up window spared me the eyesore that was Terminal City's narrow broken streets. Although I could obviously bust through without effort, I knew there would be guards waiting for me on the other side. Being a somewhat impatient man, the thought of biding my time was already forming a sharp knot of frustration in the pit of my stomach. 

Weak light from beneath the door warned me where not to step. Granting me the unwelcome sight of walls stained and filthy, a ceiling cracked and peeling, rainwater trapped in stagnant puddles upon the sunken floor, and a bare lumpy mattress which stank of mould and rat piss. I wondered if every other building in Terminal City was as dismal and decayed as this, or if they'd just given me the worst of the lot. Perhaps the answer was a bit of both. 

Glancing down at another suit about to be ruined, I removed my jacket and folded it onto one the driest section of the floor before sitting on it. Quietly I wished that I could compact myself into a ball so as not to touch any more of my surrounding filth than necessary. White. Pure. Unsullied. What a joke that seemed now. 

Time seemed to stop within this room. I had no idea if I sat for minutes or hours. Alone with only my thoughts, I almost wished a transgenic guard could be posted in the room so I could taunt him with threats while whittling away the time. Perhaps a fellow prisoner? Someone whom I could train to swallow their own tongue while churning out profound statements on psychology and the taste of human flesh? But unfortunately my team were being held elsewhere and I was no Hannibal Lector. Isolation really could drive a person mad, especially in such settings as these. Well if nothing else, it would be an interesting test of endurance.

I knew 452 wouldn't have the guts to ship out my team in pieces, nor would she allow anyone else to attempt it. But I hardly cared if she spared them or not. It would make no difference to me. I had already made my last fuck-up for the Conclave. No amount of ass-kissing would spare me their wrath this time. Every chance I'd had to eliminate 452 had come to nothing but frustration. Ongoing defeat was not welcomed by the elders. We didn't come this far over ten thousand years by riding the back of failure. If I were to leave this hole, it would have to be with 452's lifeless body in my arms. If not, then I would be as hunted as surely as these creatures me and my kind sought to destroy. 

Clenching my fists in frustration, I squeezed my eyes tight against the anger that burned within me. It wasn't my fault. I knew that, but the Conclave had grown tired of hearing my excuses. They doubted where my loyalties lay. They didn't understand why I was risking my entire race for the life of one child. My only son - Ray. He was my world, my existence. Unfortunately, I had only come to realise this fact when I stood over his unconscious body during the proving. Since then, the words of the priestess had resurfaced daily to haunted me. _He's weak. I'd be surprised if he survives. _

My loyalty lay with my only son. He was the shield 452 held before her. And I knew that as long as he was kept from me, I'd continue to spare the girl's life. 

Perhaps I was already going mad. Here I sat, trying to sound out the deep and hidden meanings behind every little thing that had brought me to this stinking rotten hole. The prophesy protected the girl, twisting her away from me at every turn, even when nothing stood between us but my own conscience. The very prophesy which my kind fought against, appeared in turn to protect me. On several occasions now I should have been dead by the hands of a transgenic. The balance was even. For reasons beyond my comprehension, Fate wouldn't allow either of our deaths right now and I was itching to find out why. 

The light beneath the door by now had retreated, in the darkness I could almost pretend I was somewhere else. The walls of this room were held together by grime and tainted by the sour smell of sickness. I wasn't by any means squeamish. Just meticulous. And so I'd rather sit here and develop cramp than walk through puddles of filth to lie upon a disease ridden bed. I couldn't stand putrefaction, none of my kind could. In the perfect world, there would be no famine or disease, no wastelands rotting with the bodies of plague ridden rats. These things had been brought into the world by humankind. We were better than human. 

A sound outside the door interrupted my thoughts and I jumped to my feet as the handle turned, preparing to face whatever jazzed up cat, dog, lizard or three-headed mythological dragon that was bound to enter the room. After all, you could never be sure what Sandeman had been playing with in his secret little lab. 

"So, you haven't hung yourself with your tie yet? Well that's a shame." 

I rolled my eyes and sneered at the X5 standing in the doorway. "The court jester. I'm honoured. I take it you're here to amuse me with your clownish antics?" 

494 merely gave me a tight lipped smile and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. For a moment, his eyes almost glittered in the darkness and I could sense his desire to do the one thing we both knew 452 would never bring _herself _to do. Kill me. I also sensed that the only thing holding him back - was her. 

He thumped the wall, which surprisingly remained intact, and yelled to whoever was outside. Moments later, a weak bulb spluttered into life from above, and suddenly the ghastliness of the room was emphasised by the stark light. 

With a wide smile that I found highly suspicious, 494 waved before me a brown paper bag. "Want some burger?" 

I sneered at him. "How about you freaks just spare yourself the food rations and kill me now?" 

Ignoring my remark, he grinned. "No? Ah well, your loss." An inquisitive look crossed his face. "What do you familiar types eat anyway?" 

I stared open mouthed at his easy going stance as he leant against the back of the door and began to awkwardly unwrap a burger with his broken, bandaged up arm. Of course, my lack of response only seemed to give 494 encouragement to speak. 

"You know, I hear that in some countries, snakes are a delicacy. So, do you eat the snake or just drink the blood? 'Cause you may just be missing out on -" 

What _exactly _do you want 494?" To say I was irritable would be the understatement of the century. How he had managed to survive all of these years when he obviously had the mental agility of a young child, was beyond me. 

Taking another larger bite, 494's face showed an exaggerated look of satisfaction as he crunched the bread and its fillings. Valuing discussion over table manners, he swallowed only half of his mouthful before continuing with his mindless chatter. "I just thought we could have a friendly conversation... I mean, I know we're enemies and all but you can't _truly _hate someone unless you know them first right?" 

"I don't want to _know _you 494. I just want to _kill _you. And the more you speak to me, the more intensely I want to wipe your smirk off your face and then wipe your head clear off your neck!" I also wanted to kick myself. The transgenic was obviously up to some new game, and so far he had succeeded in agitating me with only the barest effort. I tried to reclaim my composure, not wanting to rise to the bait again. 

He shrugged his shoulders as his grin grew wide enough to claim his face, and continued. "We'll start with you huh? How's it going? How's your family?" 

My scowl deepened but I stood my ground, refusing to give a comment, knowing it would only encourage him. 

Crooking his head to one side in contemplation, 494 paused for a moment as if relaying his words back to himself. "Oh... touchy subject? Happens when you kill your wife and send your kid into a freaky ass snake worshipping cult." 

Before I even realised what I was doing, I sprung forward and knocked the remainders of the burger from 494's hands, my hand grabbing his throat as his eyebrows began to rise in what I suspected was only mock surprise. 

"I'm not in the mood for chit chat, I'm not in the mood for deciphering your whacked out nonsense and I'm certainly _not _in the mood for listening to you talk of things you know nothing about." 

I pressed harder against his throat, hoping that with enough pressure his head would explode, thus erasing the smart ass look right off his face. But the more I pressed, the further he managed to grin, serving to frustrate and anger me further. 

"You may think you have me under the sole of your boot right now, but that's just your perception. Make no mistake - you won't have me trapped in shit hole forever. And I will kill you and your little X5 whore in the first given opportunity." 

Releasing him, I stepped back, glowering with the rage which seemed to forever simmer within me. But the look in 494's eyes matched mine, except his anger radiated through a smug facade. As if he still had one up on me. Well being that I was still their prisoner and at their mercy - I guess he did. 

"Max is no _whore _. But you know, I think I've figured you out _Ames_." 494 spat the name as he rubbed at his throat, his voice slightly raspy but still filled with hate none the less. "Your jealous aren't you? I saw the way you were looking at her before..." 

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowed into a dangerous glint. 494's arm was bound and in a sling but he was still a threat I knew not to take lightly. "Whatever creepy little thoughts you have about her, I suggest you get them out of your head right **now." **

I laughed at his unspoken threat. I wanted to tell him the truth - that the thought of physical contact with his little bitch, except to kill her, made me nauseous. But I instead gave into the temptation to say something that would inflame him so much more. 

"What's wrong 494 - feeling a bit insecure? Oh I don't blame you. You're obviously doing nothing to satisfy the little wench. I'm sure it wouldn't take much coercion from me to have her screaming _my _name." 

With immense pleasure, I noticed how my comment had succeeded in agitating him further. His glanced down to his injured arm and back to me again, his jaw clenching with anger as he seemingly weighed up a decision. 

"Why don't you just shut your mouth?" His voice was low and laced with venom. As much as he wanted to pretend my words didn't have any effect on him, he couldn't hide the fact that they did. 

Bemused, I wondered if I had hit a raw spot. Though which part of my comment was the one that had hit the nail on the head, I wasn't yet sure of. 

"Why 494? Was I too accurate for your liking?" 

A battle of wills raged within him, but in the end he let out a quiet breath and forced a tight smile as his eyes fell to his injured arm once more. "Oh you know, I think I can let it slide White - besides, I know you're trying to bait me, and I would hate to give you that kind of satisfaction." 

"You right 494." I eyed him critically. "It'd be best to wait until you have a fighting chance." 

At that, 494 laughed with genuine amusement, his expression almost laid-back. "Oh White, I've already seen you in action remember? And don't you also remember how we left you taped to a post with your super duper ass kicking warriors in their underwear?" 

494 chuckled to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, his stance that of a man who wasn't making an effort to be on guard. As with his easy-going expression, it was of course, a ruse. I smiled. His attempt to belittle me had no effect when I knew I could go one lower. 

"I remember that day well 494. Your head would have been _stoved in _if it weren't for that _human _coming to your rescue. That must have been a real blow to the ego. How did your transgenic bitch look at you after _that _huh?" I punctuated my words and grinned as I watched the X5's jaw clench while he fought to hold on to his laid back facade. After a moment the smooth casual expression settled over his features once more. 

"I don't think anything could knock down your ego White." He laughed and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans before proceeding to bounce annoyingly on the balls of his feet, reminding me of a young child. "I mean look at you - you're so far up yourself you're inside out." 

"Did you come here to bore me with your pathetic little jibes 494? Or did your little pals get sick of you and send you away? Because, I'm really not this desperate for the company." I scowled at him and sat back down on my jacket. I was under the transgenic's thumb right now, and there was currently nothing I could do about it. Besides, 494 had an aura about him that I found utterly draining. 

He raised an eyebrow as I sat down, and then looked around the room as if taking it in for the first time. As his eyes travelled over the rotting mattress, the frown that had begun to form, deepened. 

"You know Ames, I think I should see about getting you better accommodation. After all, we wouldn't want to be accused of being _inhospitable_." 

He turned to leave, and his words brought to mind a memory. I had said basically the same thing about a transgenic whose murder I had ultimately set up. Mule. At the thought, I wondered just how noble 494's words were - or if this was some kind of _karmic _retribution. 

"You know, you can't keep me here forever. And you can't kill me either." 

494 turned back to face me, his hand pausing at the door handle. He scanned me for a moment before chuckling. "Oh don't worry White. At least not about us keeping you here forever." 

I longed to tear the smug smile off his face, but instead felt my stomach muscles flex as I fought to control the urge. "The NSA know I'm here. And the Conclave won't take light to you holding their people. How about you show a bit of transgenic-style humanity and let us go?" 

His expression grew serious and he chewed his bottom lip for a moment, as if in concentration. Then the cocky smile that I was growing to loathe was slapped on his face once more. "Nah. Like you said, I've got a new buddy to hang out with when my transgenic pals get sick of my pathetic jibes." 

He left me with that remark and the room sank back into silence once more. This time, there was light in the room to emphasise the disgusting filth that surrounded me. 

___________________________________________________

So much time had passed. I had begun to examine the insides of my own head once more. The transgenics had truly outfoxed me. I could control physical pain, and so I had believed nothing they could say or do would ever get to me. But here I was, trapped in a scungy little room for hours on end, with my thoughts running over and over in endless little circles. A myriad of emotions I didn't even know I possessed, ran through my mind. Desire, confusion, fear... This turmoil raged inside of me, with no way of release. I could almost considering beating my head against the wall if it would knock me out and allow me to escape myself. 

This confined space I was stuck in, could almost lead me to develop empathy for caged zoo animals. At that thought, my mind turned to the transgenics who were trapped in this rotting section of Seattle. They were after all - caged zoo animals. 

It surprised me that this kind of existence didn't drive them mad. Once again I asked myself, _what the hell had my father been thinking when he made them_? Whatever his intentions - did he honestly think they would ever be accepted by humans or familiars? They were abominations. Half of them looked like monsters. But... they were also intelligent. And I had to grudgingly admit - capable of human emotions and attitudes. With the way my thoughts had begun to reflectively drift these past few days, I could almost feel envious of this fact. 

The only transgenic I had ever made a vague effort to speak to before had been Mule. A freakishly ugly specimen, with a face that had been so trusting, I had felt compelled to wish him good luck before sending him to certain death. He had then turned to me and said, "thank you - for everything" with more sincerity than any other creature I had ever met. He truly thought I was helping him to freedom. 

In that moment before he stepped out from my protection and into the scalding public eye, I realised he had actually thought of me as his friend. He didn't know any better. He didn't realise I was in fact his greatest enemy. How would he be aware of this? He had never had a friend before to hold comparison to. 

Now as I sat here with my conscience coming back to haunt me, I began to feel guilty for letting him think I was the noble saviour he had believed me to be. Why did I wish him luck? Why when I had never made even the barest attempt to be polite to a transgenic before? I didn't have to tell him to watch out for the sector police. It would have been enough for me to just release him from the car. Why had it been important for me to lead him to believe I was his friend? 

It had been those damned eyes. His subservient, even gentle nature. Another reminder of how my father's manipulations had produced something that I felt the need to pity. At least until I had reminded myself of what he was - and of what _I _was. 

As I watched Mule being brought to the ground by sector police, my smug satisfaction came not from witnessing his death, but from seeing the humans act like the very things I had always thought them to be - animals. They sickened me. Far more than my father's creations ever could, if I really dared to admit it. 

And the strangest thing of all that I noticed only now in the solitude of my own thoughts - I had called that damned transgenic by his name. 

___________________________________________________

How long were they going to keep me here? Long enough to drive me mad? I was half fearful that their plan would be successful. The only sound in this room was that of my own breathing. And an annoying drip drip drip from a ceiling leak that had been driving me crazy since I first became aware of it. So much for not wanting to be inhospitable. I think even _I _had treated caged transgenics with more decency than this. If I could just shut off both that damn drip, and the thoughts inside my head, I'd be content to suffer the sheer boredom. 

But unfortunately, it wasn't the boredom that was the problem. It was 452. 494's reaction to my remark about his little wench had caused me to play back in my mind, the way her eyes had raked over my body before she had even realised it herself. It had been hard enough to get these fucked up little thoughts out of my mind before 494's insecurities had flashed across his face like an old silent movie. Now he had caused me to start wondering something I desperately did _not _want to allow myself to envision. My thoughts about 452 were no longer around ways in which to kill her, but rather ways in which to make her... 

The sound of approached footsteps roused me from my thoughts - thankfully. I foolishly felt I would be grateful for the appearance of a transgenic once more. 

Until the door opened. 

And 452 herself stepped in. 

Like a child caught peeking at a Penthouse magazine, I felt as if my inner fantasies had suddenly been laid out for all the world to see. Fantasies that were so so wrong, yet - I couldn't stop my mind from mentally indulging in them. And it was the fact that they were wrong, that had made such thoughts so enticing. 

Internally I cringed, hoping she didn't have the same ability to read thoughts that some of my own kind did. Fortunately, her flat expression was as devoid of emotion as ever, though judging by the partially open door behind her, I wondered if she was actually afraid of me despite the fact that she had me at her mercy. 

"Get up White." 

I blocked out my earlier thoughts and allowed my customary smirk to settle on my face like a mask once more - it was a failsafe for all occasions. 

"What's the matter 452 - afraid to be alone with me?" 

The expression on her face flickered uncertainly for the barest moment before she kicked the door shut behind her. "Of course not. Now get up." 

"Oh as if 452. Do I look like one of your little lap dogs you can just order around?" I laughed as her face contorted into a scowl black enough to chase away darkness itself. 

"Move!" 

She kicked out at me, just as I had anticipated she would. Grabbing her foot, I pulled it towards me and tipped her off balance, causing her to fall into a stinking puddle of water. She sat in stunned shock for a moment. The putrid liquid had splashed up on her and now dripped from her face and hair. It would have made such a humorous Kodak moment. 

Then she snapped into awareness and reacted with pure anger rather than rational thought - another thing I had anticipated. 

"You fucking piece of cult bred filth!" 

Catching her as she hurtled herself at me, I pulled her hands away from my throat and flung her to one side, rolling with her as I still had hold of her arms. Pinned beneath my weight, she glowered at me and opened her mouth to no doubt yell for help to the guards in the hall. I released one wrist and held my hand against her mouth. She used her free hand to push against my chest and try to shove me away. When that failed, she began punching my ribs. I sighed. When would she learn? 

"It's scary that I know you well enough now, to foresee the way you react when angry." My smirk broadened involuntarily as her eyes blackened further. I could almost see the pent up steam begin to escape through her ears. 

"When you can't get your own way - when people don't do what you want them to do, you lash out. You really should learn how to control that fiery temper if you expect to be any kind of _leader_." 

The realisation that I was giving her advice, however sarcastic and hypocritical it might be, caused me to laugh. And the fact that I was lying on top of her, abruptly cut the laughter off. Groaning inwardly, I asked myself how I had managed to get in this - predicament - with _her_. And the truth of the matter was that I had been imagining this very scenario before she had walked in the door... 

452 mumbled something beneath my hand and I realised that while my mind had been locked into my own thoughts, she had been trying to communicate her insults to me for a seemingly eternal half minute or so. Snapping back to reality, I grinned down at her. "I'm sorry 452 - I can't understand you?" 

This was poetic justice for her. She had left me gagged and humiliated before the mirthful laughter of Clemente after all. And so I was enjoying every moment of this chance to deal her a little payback. But as her chest heaved beneath me in an effort to draw in breath, I realised I was enjoying this perhaps a little _too_ much. Realising also that I was crushing her, I lowered one elbow to the ground - the one that held her wrist, and propped myself up on it to relieve her from some of my weight. I didn't want to suffocate the girl. Well, not yet at least.

"If you scream, I'll kill you before your little transgenic chumps have a chance to so much as open that door. Understand me?" She nodded her head - this was like a typical kidnap scene from a movie. Cautiously I removed my hand from her mouth, my fingers brushing her skin as I wrapped them softly around her throat - in warning. 

"Now. What can I do for you 452?" 

"Huh?" Her confusion at my question momentarily caused her to forget any threat to kick my ass that she had no doubt been formulating inside her head. 

"Well... you came in here and tried to order me to stand before you as if I were one of your little minions. What did you want?" I spoke to her as if trying to explain simple road directions to a complete imbecile. But really, I was stalling. The truth is, I really didn't want to move off her. As much as I knew I'd hate myself for feeling this way the instant I was alone with my thoughts once more, right now she just felt too damn good for me to care. 

Absent mindedly, I began to stroke the skin of her throat with my finger tips. She shivered slightly beneath my touch, causing her eyes to widen in surprise before filling with hate once more. "Would you stop that? And get the hell of me!" 

The words were quietly hissed as she tried not to bring attention to the guards outside the door. Obviously she had taken my threat to break her neck seriously. 

"Just answer the damn question 452." I knew I should move off her, this was just... odd. In an increasingly uncomfortable kind of way. 

"You know, if you had listened to me in the _first _place, you would have found out by now why I came here!" 

I laughed - at myself. She was right. 

"Just get the hell off me and I'll tell you!" She grabbed the fingers that brushed almost gently across her throat, and held them still. A look of wild fear was in her eyes - perhaps fear of her own unwanted reaction to me. 

It dawned on me then, that I was heading in a direction with this _transgenic _that I should never ever want to go. And somehow, she seemed... to be loathefully enjoying it as much as me. Surely not. The possibility of her desiring me was as unlikely as me wanting her... but here we were... this was so, so wrong. 

"Deal." Distaste filled my mouth as I released my hold and moved off her. She sprung to her feet and shoved me backwards into the wall. I didn't try and stop her, in fact I was surprised that shoving me was the worst that she did. As I sank against the wall, my mind filled with self-disgust once more. 

"I swear you're going to regret this Ames!" She too seemed to be crawling with disgust as she brushed at her clothes - as if trying to brush the memory of me off her. 

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing she or her transgenic buddies could do, would make me regret the way I had fleetingly allowed myself to feel about her any more than I already did. 

"We had a deal 452 - why are you here?" The words came out from my mouth ragged and broken. 

She stared at me in sullen silence, her eyes radiating hate, but burning also with something else. So many things had changed within me over the past few days, and even more suddenly, things had changed between _us_. 

Finally, she released her voice. "Alec told me about the state of this room. I was going to take you to a better one." 

I bit off the smart ass retort that leapt to my tongue and instead asked, "and you're not now huh?" 

"That's right." Her expression tightened for a moment before she added, "you can stay here and rot." 

452 then began to step backwards towards the door, not wanting to turn her back on me obviously. I took a couple of measured paces towards her and she halted, a defiant look at once jumping to her eyes. 

"Wait." I held my hands up, indicating that I wasn't going to wrestle her to the ground once more. "What was the catch? I'm sure there must have been one." 

We now stood two feet apart, though the thick wall of uncertainty and denial that rested between us made that distance seem so much farther - or closer - depending on how you looked at it. 

Shrugging as she came to a decision within herself, she held out a hand and for a moment I looked to her in puzzlement, before realisation set in. On her palms were runes that had now nearly faded away. I took her hand in mine and ran a finger over the symbols. The way in which they appeared on her skin baffled me, the message they seemed to be relaying, baffled me further. But I wasn't about to let her in on either of these revelations. 

As I held on to her hand and wrestled with a decision, I thought of how she had broken my mental defences just by.... _being_. Being inside my head. Being beneath me. Being the stone in my shoe for countless months now. Being the person to take my son away from me. Being the one to make me feel things I should only have felt for my wife - things that even my wife hadn't made me be able to feel. Gods I just wanted to wring her neck right there and then and be done with this dilemma. 

I could help her, but that would mean changing my entire way of system of belief. It would turn me into the worlds biggest hypocrite. And it would undoubtedly bring a death sentence upon me if the Conclave ever found out. I just wasn't ready for anything like that - not to help a doomed race of people whose existence I had always sworn to hate. 

"You want me to translate them for you?" Her eyes bore into mine as she nodded. I thought of Mule's trusting gaze. These runes scared her. It was almost as if she were looking to me as one looks at a familiar face amid a crowd of strangers. Well, one thing I was, was Familiar. And that was the problem. 

"Well, _that _aint gonna happen." I forced my eyes to harden and my smile to grow cold. Then I looked down at her hand and released it at last. 

"Fine!" She hissed the words, her voice laced with venom as she backed away and opened the door. "_Rot _in here then!" 

As the door clicked shut and I was alone in the room once more, I resumed my seat on the ground. This time unmindful of where I sat. I was bone weary and filled with confusion. And guilt. Why guilt for crying out loud? 

The sound of dripping began to rebound against the walls once more, as if taunting me into believing I had somehow made the wrong decision. Perhaps I should have agreed to help her. Just to get out of this damned room. I had the sickening feeling there had been some kind of fate filled symbolism behind me taking her hand moments earlier, and also for me letting it go. No doubt if I looked deeply enough into the damned prophesy, it would be in there. The question was, how much did it control me, and how much was I willing to _let _it control me? 

All of my life I had allowed my decisions to be based on the ideals of the Conclave, or my animosity towards my father. I hunted the transgenics by the whim of the Conclave, I hated them as revenge towards Sandeman. A new thought began to worm its way into my head. If I were to strip away the brainwashing of both the Conclave and my own blinding hatred for my father, what exactly did _I _want to do? 

That was a question I seemingly had all the time in the world to ponder upon as I sat in this damned filth filled room, alone with only my thoughts, and the god damned rhythmic drip from a leaky roof.

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A/N2: Okay, I realise Max would have struggled and slung insults so much more, blah blah blah… but… If I was going to follow 100% true to her character - or White's, I'd never be writing a M/W fic to begin with!


	6. Collision

LONG A/N: Sorry about the looong break between updates. I've been stuck on this chapter for weeks and as much as I've tried to weed out the babble, I've just given up. It drags on and on... deal with it. :-D Okay it's been commented that this story just isn't developing for M/W shippers. I guess that's because I'm more interested in developing White as a person, rather than M/W as a pairing. I started writing this to explore the inside of White's head. If a pairing happened, it happened. But it wasn't meant to be the focus of the story. Now it seems to have become the focus because I'm trying to write what readers want to read, rather than what I want to write. I meant to explore White's anger and connection with his father and the _possibility _that there's a side to him that's capable of caring (letting his wife life far longer than they were usually kept around for, made me curious about this possibility in the first place.) 

And unfortunately I'm just not clever enough to pull off a plausible M/W pairing, and I think I'm just destroying my story by trying. (Especially when writing in 1st person from White's POV. I don't really like Max enough personally, to describe any groiny action with her through the eyes of Amsey. *shudder*.) And as Nevermore pointed out, they hate each other in a way that's much more intense than any mere Romeo and Juliet style family-feud. It's that self-disgust that White experiences as he realises he feels something more for Max aside from hate, that keeps me writing this. And as I have more of a plot mapped out for my story aside from some character pairing, I've found trying to focus on making the story M/W tends to pull me away from my original storyline. But its all good, I'm on track by the end of this chapter, and now oh so close to the conclusion to this fic....

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Breaking Tradition by Sorrow

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Chapter Six - Collision

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I wasn't content to simply sit and _ponder_ for long. Not when my mind started playing flashbacks of the feel of 452 beneath me, and the fact that I'd been so close to betraying my own cause for her. If I hadn't already. With her no longer in the room to fill my senses, I could think rationally once more. And it was the rational thought that was finally driving me mad. What had I been thinking? And how could I have been so foolish? 

Soon, white hot anger seethed through me. It seemed as if the very bare essence of my soul were made up of it. I wanted to strike out at someone. I wanted to feel the satisfaction of driving my fist through the flesh of my opposition. My skin tingled from the adrenalin that writhed through my veins, stirring up my cells, but finding no way of release. The tingle didn't stop but rather evolved into a tremor. I jumped to my feet, clenching my fists beside me. My entire body shook from the need to strike out and vent every bit of hate and anger I'd ever felt reason to harbor within me. 

How many times had I bleated on about this race of creatures being the very bane of my existence? Enough for there to be no doubt that I would love nothing more than to see each and every one of them strung up and left to rot. So what the fuck had I been thinking when I went and literally threw myself on the leader of their pack? 

As I sat in that damned stinking room - alone once more, I realised how _pathetic_ my actions were. What moved me to react to her that way? I asked myself the question over and over, but I honestly don't think I ever wanted to know the answer. 

* * *

Repetitive thoughts, an endless drip, a lingering desire still coursing through me, hate, lust, need, and on top of it all, absolute shame. I wanted to sink to the ground in despair and bury my face forever in my hands. 

A few hours earlier I'd thought it couldn't get any worse. Now I wondered, half in seriousness, why couldn't they just kill me already? 

My struggle with 452 was burning a hole into my conscience. I felt the filth of this room suffocating me. But one fear returned to the surface over and over. Perhaps it wasn't the stench, grime or the isolation that caused me to feel as if I were going mad, but rather, 452. Had I developed some kind of empathy for my captor - a psychological react, known to happen in hostage situations? Or was the human in me simply reaching out to the human in her? I couldn't deny that she was attractive, I'd noticed _that_ from the very first day I met her. She had spark, defiance, a strength within her that went above any human or even familiar, that I had ever met. But at the end of the day, she was still a transgenic. Fake. She had a whole god damn zoo within her genetics. 

I couldn't explain what the girl was doing to me, but being in here with bare else to concentrate on, was only making it worse. And once the thought came to mind, I couldn't shake it. I felt like a traitor to myself, and to my own people. And with that thought, came a new fear. 

If I were to look in a mirror, would I see my father's face staring back at me? 

* * *

If I believed in a god, I would probably at this stage pray - for release from this hole they had stuffed me into. But I believed in nothing. My murmured whispers to the goddess of my people was nothing more than lip service. How could I believe in higher powers when I felt _we_ were the higher powers. Arrogant and superficial yes. But hey, that's me. 

I had to get out of this room. Too much time has been wasted sitting and stewing over _her_. I had a barter system right here waiting for me to make use of it. And I was cunning enough to cheat the transgenics out of their share of the deal. 

It was simple - once I finally fought back the black hole of absolute revulsion I had been feeling towards myself. 452 wanted to know the meaning of her runes. I wanted to get the hell out of here. 

"Hey! Any of you freaks out there?!" 

Stepping towards the door, my boot splashed in a puddle, causing rancid water to spray over my already ruined trousers. I no longer cared. Filth was the least of my problems. 

"I want to speak to you 452! I think I have something you might just wanna hear!" 

I waited for a reply of sorts, but only silence greeted me. Typical. 

"You idiots got learning disabilities or something? Hey!" 

I threw a fist at the door, splintering the wood. The impact sent a sharp sensation up my arm. Pausing in astonishment, I glanced down at the tingling limb, it almost... hurt? Again I slammed my fist into the door. Or rather, through the door. Again I felt it - heat spread through my knuckles. A sharp tremor ran up my arm. 

Pain was a phantom of the mind, but so many thoughts and feelings were laying an assault against my mental defences that even the phantoms were materialising. The drip, the guilt, the shame, the crumbling walls and rank nauseous odour. I was allowing myself to become vulnerable and... _weak_. 

If I could just get out away from 452, Terminal City and the various freaks that inhabited it, I could collect my thoughts and go back to my normal heartless, empty, unfeeling self. 

...Why did that thought sound so unappealing? 

* * *

"It's 5am. Not that this means anything to you - but do you think you could'a waited a couple more hours before being hit by the burning desire to co-operate?"

I smiled at the glowering X5, before answering honestly. "No." 

No longer alone with my thoughts, the phantoms that hounded me were chased back into my sub-conscious. For now. I felt my usual snide self again. Relief of this fact had almost allowed my smile to be genuine. 

452 rolled her eyes and muttered. "Suppose you like any excuse to make life difficult for us." 

"Well you see, thoughts of you were keeping me up all night 452." I cringed at the truth that was in the statement, before carrying on. "Actually you're looking a bit washed up this morning yourself. Have a restless night too?" 

"You just can't drop the arrogance can you White?" The intensity of her glare could have fried any man to a crisp, but beneath the coffee tint of her skin, I could've sworn the transgenic blushed. 

"_White_? What's wrong 452 - we were on first name basis before weren't we?" 

"We were? I don't recall you ever calling me _Max_?" 

I paused for a moment, caught out by the truth, before nodding my head in agreement. "Yes well, we all know that your kind don't truly deserve to own names. Not even your creators felt you deserving of real identities." 

She flinched as I lay emphasise on the word 'creators'. Driving in yet another reminder that her existence was entirely unnatural. Though whether I was reminding her, or myself, I wasn't quite sure. 

"Don't forget your our prisoner here White." 494 stepped forward from the doorway and lay a protective arm around 452's shoulders, thus destroying my attempts to ignore his annoying presence. "So how about you just keep it zipped huh?" 

"Why don't _you_ shut the fuck up 494! Does the truth hurt? You should be used to it by now!" 

I glowered at 494, inflamed by his presence. Angry that she would bring him here to protect herself from me - enraged at myself for giving a damn. His hold on 452 loosened as he made to step towards me but she grabbed the front of his shirt and held him in place. 

"Don't bother Alec. He just wants someone to bite the bait.

My eyes bore into 452's own, silently willing her to make him leave. But she ignored me, instead she leant in towards him. Instantly I felt the blinding anger boil within me once more, eating me up inside. 

"So, you've lowered yourself from being a trained assassin to a toy-boy 494? I'm sure your superiors would be so _proud_." I spat the words out, and even to me they sounded laced with jealousy. What happened to self-control? 

"Was there a point to you calling us in here White?" 

What annoyed me most was that 494 refused to lose his head - no matter what I said to him. And yet here I was letting him get to me. Letting this whole damn _place_ get to me. I clenched my teeth and fought for stable ground within my mind. 

"Yeah. I need to use the toilet. Can someone point me in the right direction? I wouldn't want to spoil the fine accommodation you've granted me." 

"Come on Max, let's stop wasting our time on the creep and let Joshua have him." 494 made towards the door and 452 followed him without a glance towards me. 

"Hold on." 

They paused at the doorway and I waited for 452 to finally raise her eyes, noting how her jaw tightened for a brief moment, as if she were steeling herself against me. 

"Didn't you want those runes deciphered?" 

Her expression was unreadable as she answered. "So, I guess this is the part where we strike some kind of deal?" 

Scratching my head as if in casual contemplation, I hesitated, and filled the silence with a slow smile before replying. "Well, you know what I want 452." 

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I could practically see them hanging in the air between us. It was in that moment that I became aware of just how much they carried a double meaning. Did they also see this and wonder just which edge of the sword I was dancing on? 

The silence in the room grew. 

"Am I missing something here?" 494 cleared his throat and glanced to us. 

452 looked as if she were fighting the urge to pull away from him and run from the room. Instead, she jumped to the defensive, like a shoplifter caught trying to escape through a side door. "Aside from half a brain, nothing Alec. Why? What are you trying to say?" 

494 rolled his eyes as if the answer was glaringly obvious. "Well gee Max, would ya like me to start listing your strange behaviour _now _? Or when we're no longer in the presence of our **_enemy_**?" 

Was he emphasising that final word to remind 452 of what I was? Or was my paranoia causing me to read too far into every little detail? The thought reminded me of just how much I needed to get out of here. 

"My son 452. Where is he? I'll decode the runes - you give me my son." My words snapped away the thick discomfort that lingered in the room and some kind of normality returned to us all once more. 

Pulling away from 494 at last, and adapting what I presumed was her usual 'take no shit' manner, 452 folded her hands across her chest and stuck out a hip, an instant scowl crossing her face. "I think you know by now that nothing will ever bring your son back to you." 

I couldn't help but flinch slightly, a sick feeling rose within my stomach. What exactly did she mean by that? Nothing will ever bring him back to me. I hoped she was only referring to what she felt was my dubious parenting skills. Because surely if he hadn't survived... she'd tell me? 

Taking a deep breath, I sought some kind of leverage. I wanted to make her understand that I would do anything to get my son back. Even lay aside my loyalty to the Conclave and my vow to erase the transgenics if that's what she asked in return. But why would she believe me? 

"Fine." The word dragged laboriously out of a throat that was suddenly dry. "But I don't know how you can expect me to strike a deal if you won't give me the one thing in the world that I care about. Or even tell me if he's still alive!" 

I couldn't have spoken the words more honestly, and for a moment, 452 nearly softened. Or perhaps that was just my wishful thinking. I was beginning to wonder if she was truly as heartless and manipulative as myself. 

"Try something else on your wish list White. Like perhaps getting out of here? Or getting your troop of goons out?" 

"To be honest 452, I really don't care what you do with them." To be honest with myself, I hadn't paid much thought to the Phalanx at all. Part of me would love nothing more right now than to see Thula thrown head first out of a ten story... 

"Okay then, so you'd desert your team. Figures..." 

"Yes 452, I think we've established by now that I'm the _big bad evil_. I don't give a shit about my team. I don't care if you decapitate each and every one of them and send them in pieces to the Conclave as you offered earlier. I could almost be willing to supply the postal address. I don't care what you do to me. I only care about getting my son back. And that's something _you_ don't care about. So we're really in a fix here aren't we?" 

"You know, somehow I find it really hard to believe you care about Ray. Or about anyone except yourself. So yeah, forget it - like I said before. We'll work out what the runes mean ourselves." 

452 turned to leave, her pout having increased to the point where her bottom lip seemed dangerously close to collecting up stagnant water from the ground. 494 still wore an expression of surprise, perhaps wondering why she was so recklessly keen to get away from my presence when I offered the answer to their annoying little riddle. 

"You don't have time 452. Not if you want to 'save the world'. The time is drawing closer and you're nearly out of it already." 

"What do you mean?" She turned to face me, sub-consciously raking her fingers over one palm, as if trying to scratch the runes from her body. 

Ignoring 494, I stepped forward until I was mere inches from 452, unable to hide my satisfied smile as she made efforts not to flinch back from me. Taking her hand as I had a few hours earlier, I brushed my fingers over the runes once more. 

"My people have been waiting for the signs for centuries, and at last, it's begun. So I'd suggest that you give me what I want, or you may just lose _everything_." I held her eyes with my own and allowed a smile to slowly break over my face. "And wouldn't that be a pity?" 

I felt much like the wolf upon meeting Little Red Riding Hood. Here I was, in a position to lead her far off the beaten track, and she was no doubt going to trust me. What other choice did she have? 

"Come on Max, you know he's just gonna lie. Why the hell would he tell us anything? That would kinda defeat his purpose in life wouldn't it?" 

494's voice startled 452 into pulling her hand away from mine. I choked back the urge to snarl and throw him against the wall. Before ripping out his throat. 

"Fine. Your funeral." I turned away before muttering beneath my breath. "And everyone else's on the damn planet." 

"Okay!" The air stirred behind me and a hand grabbed my arm, swinging me back around. Wide eyed, 452 made poor efforts to hide her fear as she nodded and said, "Come on. We've got photos of the markings. You tell us what we want to hear, we'll let you go. That's the best deal you'll get. Or else you can just stay here and rot." 

"Max..." 

Her eyes flicked to 494 and back to me again, as if waiting for me to contest his warning growl. 

"Look. This is the part of the story where we have to try and trust each other. Now, I don't know about you lot, but I can't stand being in this damn hole, and I'm willing to try and put a bit of trust in you if it'll get me the hell outta here." 

I stepped past the transgenics and out into the corridor, leaving them to follow me. But instantly I found myself face to face with the barrell of a shotgun, and the nasty looking example of why salamanders and humans should never mate. 

"Don't think so hotshot." 

The reptile growled the words around his cigar, his red rimmed eyes making him look like a ragged old down-and-out drunk. I wondered if anyone had bothered telling him that before. 

"It's okay Mole." Behind me, 452 stepped out from the room I had just vacated and took hold of my arm as she began to lead me . Her fingers dug sharply into my flesh as she led me down the hall, sending the same tingling sensation through me that I had felt upon driving my fist through the door. Though this time, the feeling was much more pleasurable. 

Behind us walked 494, in step with the lizard. I shot 452 a sidelong glance. "I would've thought that you'd put me in a better room than _that_ you know. Don't you want me to give the NSA a nice glowing report in your favour? Tell them of the transgenics great hospitality?" 

"Whatever White. Why waste a good room on you? You'll tell them we shoved you into a hole in the ground and took turns pissing on your head either way." 

"True true. And hey - thanks for the idea." 

* * *

The arguing had been going on for hours. I can't remember how it started - oh wait, I can. Earlier in this drawn out little tale, I'd overhead one of the transgenics speak of his theories regarding the purpose of their creation - that my father had originally set out to create familiars with a built in immunity to the pathogen contained within the snakes. They didn't like hearing it then, and they didn't like being told it now. But, they wanted to know what the runes said. Don't ask a question if you're not prepared to hear the answer. 

"I agree that his interpretation is tainted by his hatred towards us, but what if in some way - he's right?" The pixie looking little critter was really getting into this debate. I found the whole thing to be thoroughly enjoyable. 

No Luke! Father was good!" The dog leant forward in his seat uttered a low growl. 

"Yeah I'm sure he was Josh, _after_ he found out his youngest son was going to die and he developed a bit of compassion for the rest of the world."

"No Dix, Luke, you didn't know Father!" 

"But hang on, people don't just _change _from being the 'epitome of all evil'." 452 stepped forward, and threw a glance at me before continuing. "One day, busy working hard in a secret lab, churning out mass market familiars to aid in world domination... Next, becoming the world's saviour - turning an army of death into the protectors of the human race. It doesn't make sense."

The one they called 'Luke' shrugged, still convinced he was right but no longer sure how to back up his argument in the face of disbelievers. "But that's what he was wasn't he? In the beginning? No matter what kind of good guy he may have turned into, he was one of _them_ to start."

"Enough! Father was _not_ the bad guy!" 

The dog-thing leapt from his seat and grabbed his companion by his throat, lifting him into the air. It amused me no end to see that life was definitely edgy for these creatures. They were like rubber bands on the verge of breaking point. 

494 and the lizard both moved to the enraged were-wolf and tried to release his hold. The little freak between his paws was kicking his feet uselessly as gurgles escaped his mouth. This was damn good entertainment. I didn't want to agree with what the thing was trying to say, but I didn't have any choice if the runes were anything to go by. 

At last the dog backed away, restrained by almost everyone else who'd been sitting at the table. The near-strangled little critter looked amusingly wounded, as if being launched upon by his friend actually hurt his feelings (I'm presuming it's a 'he'?). The amusement factor was the idea of these things actually having feelings. Then again, they could talk couldn't they? Wonders never cease. 

As he sat there gulping in air, his little buddy, the creature they called 'Dix' picked up on his trail of thought, apparently having learnt no lessons from his pal's near death experience.

"Think about the caducus symbol they all wear Max! It's the symbol of the messenger. YOU. That's yet another thing that ties you in with the familiars. They wear the symbol of the messenger and you _are _the messenger! And you just so happened to get branded with it during Ray's initiation! As far as prophesies are concerned, that's got to mean something right? It sounds to me that Sandeman was creating more familiars and somewhere along the line, he began to change his mind about the purpose?" 

The room fell silent as they pondered upon the implications of this outburst. All except for the pet pup whose endless growling was grating on my nerves. The Quasimodo was right about one thing. My father had initially wanted to step the process up a notch rather than break away from it completely. 

I shared with my father, religious scepticism. It would be heresy to admit that the idea of beckoning on an ancient Snake Goddess for protection and fertility was fanaticism at it's best, and so I would never dare to suggest such a thing. Out loud. But the hooded cloaks, the war paint and the chanting were simply stage props. The underlying point was in having strength against the pathogen contained within the blood of the snake. Taking a small dose of it during the initiation ceremony was like taking a vaccine. If you survived _that_, there was an alright chance that you'd survive the real thing. Or so we all hoped. 

452 had kept a careful eye on me throughout the outburst, as if gauging my reaction to the hilarities of the day would give her insight into how much truth I told. At this point, I was sticking to the truth. Nothing I'd told her so far was anything that would have any devastating effect on my people. She knew a little bit of back history to the creation of the transgenics - borne of my father's need to confess his sins I guess. But the history lesson wasn't going to teach her how to stop us.

"Tell me _again_, what these runes mean. This time, how about a word for word translation? Or are you afraid of slipping up on a lie?" 

She had covered her fear with anger, but I could still see that she was afraid. Afraid that I was telling her the truth. 

"Do you think I'm happy to hear about it 452? Do you really think I'd want to tell you that the Boy Wonders over there are right?" I waved an impatient hand towards the two mutants. Couldn't she just deal with it already and move on? 

"You promised the truth!" 

"Shit are you thick? This is the fucking truth! My father felt the process of selective breeding was too slow so he thought he'd speed it up - we were running out of time, too many of us were dying! He had a point, I gotta give the guy that. He achieved as much within a few years as we've spent thousands of years perfecting. But you can be damned sure I'm not happy with it! And neither were the Conclave - did he really expect we'd welcome a bunch of... replicas, with open arms?" 

The black clouds were rolling in and I took a calming breath before blowing any chance of getting the hell out of here. "Now. I've kept up my side of the bargain. Think you can bear to part with me now, and send me on my merry way?" 

"So you can go back to your job of hunting us down?" 

"Pretty much." I nodded my head affirmatively. As she said herself, she wanted honesty. "Yeah." 

"Fine." The word was softly spoken, the gaze accompanying it penetrating, as she tried to find something within my eyes that told her I was holding something back. 

"Look. There's nothing more to add. Your latest message is nothing more than a filler. Sandeman's way of relieving a guilty conscience. I guess he never expected to be around to tell you in person." 

"Why did he use the language of your people?" 

There it was. The fear rearing its head in her again. "I don't know what the old codger's motives were. Perhaps he foresaw us meeting up and becoming buddy-bud's or something?" 

Oh god the irony in my words hit me. It seemed his premonition was falling into place. I could tell myself that I loathed this creature before me, but I couldn't pretend it wouldn't contradict with how I felt last night when she was pinned on the ground beneath me. And here I was telling her the meaning of the runes. Did he know his eldest living son was going to aid the transgenic cause, by will or force - one way or another? 

"You know 452, as much as I've enjoyed the quality time, I'd like to get outta this dump now." 

She opened her mouth to say something further, but changed her mind and simply nodded. As she led me from the room, 494 made to follow but she stopped him with a raised palm. "No. I'll see him out myself." 

"Max, are you sure it's safe to be alone with the guy?" 

Several lifetimes could have passed as she paused to consider her reply. "Yeah, it's a little thing called trust." 

The answer surprised me, as it did everyone else in the room it seemed. 494's jaw dropped in surprise, while the dog-thing stepped forward and growled. 

"Trust him? Think Annie trusted him?" 

How do you answer a question like that? How do you stop the awkward silence from rushing in to stifle the room? Even if I had wanted to apologise, nothing would ever stop the beast from wanting to rip my head from my neck. Would I feel any different if he had done the same thing to Ray? That was the thing that caused self-disgust to take its grip around my throat once more. I could expect something like this creature before me to snap the necks of innocent blind girls in the sewers, and so could the general public. That's why they didn't hesitate to believe it. But the thing is, it wasn't some kind of grotesque Frankenstein who murdered her. It was _me_. And I was supposed to be a superior creature. The thought now made me sick. 

It seemed they waited for me to speak. How could they lay this on me now? Here I was thinking I was getting out of there, and suddenly I was shoved into a lose/lose situation with a great big hairy freakin' were-wolf. What was I supposed to say? 

As I've said before, I'm a practical man. I do what needs to be done. I wouldn't usually make a casual habit out of snapping the necks of innocents, but to generate public fear and hatred for the transgenics, it _had_ to be done. I was following orders. But would telling them that, really be in my best interests? 

"You came from Manticore - you had to follow orders. And I'm sure that sometimes those orders went against your better judgement and your morals. But you did what you had to do, because if you didn't - you're superiors wouldn't take it very well if you came back and told them you couldn't carry out the job because it didn't 'feel right'." 

I looked around at some of the guilty faces that surrounded me, and hid my smirk of satisfaction. "And what would those superiors do to you then?" 

"You can't compare our actions to your own! We didn't know any better!" The outburst came from - of course - 494. I turned to him as he came up to stand beside the dog-thing, and eyed them both. 

"Yeah, and neither did I. I was following orders. Just like you. I didn't know any better then, and I doubt I know any better now. It's in our blood to hate each other -" 

"No it's not." This statement came from the dog-thing whose face had remained impassive as I spoke. Now, he turned to me and elaborated. "Father - Sandeman. He didn't hate us. And he's your blood. It's not in your blood to hate us. It's in your decision." 

This creature had been my father's favourite. _Joshua_. His first little miracle. He had spoken of him on many occasions. There was no doubt that the creature had the kind of wisdom that could only be possessed by spending large amounts of time in the company of Sandeman. I had not spent much time with my father at all. Project Manticore had consumed him. The transgenics were all he cared for. Them, and CJ. I could make allowances for CJ, forgive him for taking my father's attention. But not... _these_. 

"And I think we all know what my decision is." 

'Joshua's' expression hardened once more and he nodded and stepped away, tugging on 494's arm and pulling him back. 452 stepped forward and took their place, her eyes dull and blank as if she too had just closed herself off to me. It seemed a more permanent truce had been offered up between us, and I'd just gone and ripped it to shreds. Well, we can't help who we are can we? 

* * *

She led me from the building and we walked towards the outskirts of Terminal City in an uncomfortable silence. I replayed the events of the past few days over in my head while throwing her occasional glances. Her expression remained set in stone and I mirrored my own to match. 

I had already formulated my excuse for the NSA as to how I managed to lead my men off in a different direction, yet gain access into Terminal City myself. There was no doubt that the transgenics release of me would probably favour them in terms of public reaction. Between this, and the fact that the Phalanx were still being held in there somewhere, I knew the Conclave would be much harder to win over. 

We reached an unguarded section of the perimeter fence at last. There were transgenics all around us, out of sight, but I could sense them watching for me to make an attack towards 452. Thus ruling out any consideration towards knocking her out and taking her with me to the Conclave. Not that I had considered the idea. Then again, not that I hadn't. 

She stopped and turned to me as we reached a gap in the wire mesh. I could see she was trying to find words and had probably been seeking them since we left the building. I waited, aware that the others hidden out of sight, waited also. 

"So you've made your decision? This is the end of our little trust dealio?" 

The words fell from her mouth in a rush, as if she'd shoved them from the pit of her stomach using brute force. 

"You know, if you were to give me back my son, I'd stop hunting you. And the rest of your kind." 

"What about that speech about following the Conclave's orders that you gave us just before?" 

"I'd take my son and go to ground. Leave the Conclave. The only thing I care about is Ray and if you would just -" 

"No. No way. Why can't you just accept that he's -." 

She stopping herself from filling in the sentence with those final, crucial words. Accept that he's better off without me? Or accept that he's dead? 

"Why can't _you_ just tell me if he's alive?" I stood awkwardly before her, ashamed at myself to being reduced to begging. "Please? At least give me that?" 

The silence was disturbed by a foot fall somewhere out of sight, and the unnerving click of several guns being cocked. Remembering that she had a convoy of body guards - an audience - hidden out of sight, she pulled her head away.

"Fine. I'll tell you that much. But first, I want to hear you call me by my _name."_

I laughed and stepped back, genuinely amused that after holding back this information from me for so long, it would be a simple name that would become so damn important to her. 

"Alright." Ignoring the unseen audience and the voice inside my head that asked me why I was doing this, I took the plunge, reminding myself it was just a word - and that it was worth it for some peace of mind. "Could you _please_ tell me if my son is still alive - Max?" 

I had always expected that if ever forced to say it, the name would roll off my mouth like vomit. To me, she could only be 452. Less than a person. Less than an animal. Simply an object churned off the assembly line in cardboard packaging like a toy. That's how I was supposed to feel. . 

As the name passed my lips, she closed her eyes for a fleeting moment, her entire expression sinking into a kind of relief, as if she had just made some great momentous achievement. Perhaps a part of her viewed me as some kind authority much like those who controlled her in Manticore. Those who looked at her as if she were only an object, and refused to allow her a name. And maybe getting me to call her 'Max' allowed her to lay the ghosts of her own past. A triumph over those who would never grant her status of anything more than a living weapon. Or a pest to be scoured from the earth. 

I cleared my throat and her eyes snapped open. Both of us suddenly extremely uncomfortable by the small moment of... understanding, we had just shared. Sliding my mask back into place, I demanded she now follow up on her side of the deal and she nodded and crossed her arms, her own mask of apathy likewise reinstalled. 

"He's alive." 

Two words. Two of the most beautiful words I had ever heard. Relief overcame me and I almost sagged as months of tension seemed to flow from every cell of my body. Those were two of the most important words I had ever heard, and I couldn't keep the smile from breaking the carefully fully constructed mask. 

"He's alive?" My voice was a bare whisper and she returned the smile with one of her own and a nod of affirmation. She had given me far more in those two words than I had given her with my one. "Thank you. Max." 

Her eyes widened in surprise as she tried to shrugged my thanks away. She seemed unsure of how to handle Ames White when he wasn't trying to kill her. For a moment we were neither enemy nor friend. Simply two people, laying to rest our ghosts. Just for a moment. 

"Just a word of advice - " I paused, not wanting to call her Max again, but not wanting to call her 452 either. "I have to report to the Conclave. They're not going to be happy to know you're holding our people here still. I'd suggest you release the Phalanx - before _they_ come to reclaim them." 

She hesitated for a moment, no doubt wanting to insist they could hold off any attack sent in against them. But instead she nodded silently once more, apparently having lost her voice. Taking it as my cue to leave I turned, breaking the awkwardness that came of us remembering we were enemies, by passing through the gap in the fence and returned to the hostilities of the outside world once more. Without a backward glance.

* * *

"It's good to see you've returned safe and sound sir." 

"Yes Otto." I rolled my eyes and turned away. "And I'm sure you mean that too." 

My NSA partner chose not to comment on that one, and so we drove on in silence, making our run of the streets, on alert for any rouge transgenic that may be causing havoc with the citizens of Seattle. 

{{Calling all units. We have transgenics on the run in sector 6. They're in a light brown Ford Mustang, heading South on Everwood. It's believed that one passenger is the transgenic caught on news footage as she commandeered -}} 

"That's us." I turned the car down a side street and began heading in the direction of Everwood Drive. 

{{ - she is wanted for arrest on charges of -}} 

"Sir we're not even in sector -" 

"Shut up Otto." 

We soon passed into sector 6, the voice coming to us through the airwaves told us the direction to continue heading in. Several police cars had joined in on the chase and by the sounds of it, they were closing in on them. 

I knew the cops way of dealing with the transgenics. Shoot them down or allow the public to get to them first. Usually, such a thing wouldn't bother me. A few less trannies to dispose of myself after all. But, I had to get to 452 before they did. I didn't care what excuse I used for myself as to why. Because she knew where my son was - that was the tried and true reason I'd used thus far, it would do. 

I ignored Otto's surprise at my insistence to follow this chase, and continued to weave my way through side streets, trying to predict where they were going. Not towards Terminal City it seemed, and with their movements restricted to one sector, the net was drawing in on them. 

"Sir what does it matter? They'll come through the NSA doors one way or another." 

Yeah, maybe in a body bag. I blocked out his yapping and as I was about to turn right into Grange, the very car I was searching for shot out and dodged to avoid me. I spun around and slammed my foot on the accelerator, the rumble of the V8 leading me in its direction even when it would at times disappear out of sight. For now we had lost the other pursuers and I hoped to keep it that way. But soon, as I drove down numerous streets and came up empty, I realised we had lost the Mustang too. 

"Shit!" 

I slammed the dashboard as we came to a halt at a small intersection in one of the scabbier back areas of sector 6. "Shit!" I repeated. 

And then it happened, so fast I didn't realise what I was even witnessing until the sound of grinding metal finally ceased. 

A non-descript yellow car approached from the opposite direction, pausing briefly at the intersection, before heading on in our direction. The roar of the V8 should have given the car some kind of warning, but the driver obviously didn't have the same hearing as my own. Travelling at speed, the Mustang shot out from the road to left. Failing to stop for the intersection, its driver didn't notice the small yellow car or perhaps thought to swerve around it. 

Either way, whatever best case scenario the transgenics had hoped to come out of today's car chase, it failed to come to pass. Their vehicle slammed into the yellow car, sending it spinning away at the same time as the force of the collision caused the Mustang to catapult into the air, over top of the sunny yellow bonnet. 

The surrealistic scene seemed to play out in slow motion and fast-forward all at once. The sound of the two cars colliding reverberated around the surrounding buildings like gruesome background music. I watched in shock as the Mustang lifted into the air, rising above the rooftops of car's parked on the curb, twisting as it descended. Landing on it's side first, then rolling over and over, it's body caving in more each time it struck the ground. Until finally it came to a sliding halt. 

Inside, no one moved. I stepped out of my own car and glanced around, withdrawing my gun in the process. As I strode towards the mangled wreck, the world seemed suddenly far too quiet. No one had come to investigate the sound, no one peered out through the slits of curtained windows. There were no witnesses. This was almost too easy. 

"Sir! What are you doing?" 

Reaffirm: This was almost too easy. 

"Shut up Otto. Stay out of it." 

452 lay across the lap of the unconscious driver beside her. Unmoving. I reached in and nudged her. Damn it if she died now. I still had questions for her. "Hey! 452!" But there was no response 

"Wake up 452!" I didn't want to call her by her name. Not again. That moment where I had felt empathy for her and her kind had passed the second I found myself away from Terminal City and once again in the company of my own species. She was the enemy, and nothing more. Perhaps my actions of a few days ago while in their captivity, had contradicted this entirely, but I'd learnt from my mistakes. The Conclave had made sure of that. 

Otto hovered beside me, sending me questioning looks while opening and closing his mouth like a deranged goldfish. The guy could take a hint... eventually, but he wasn't reading anything loud and clear today. 

"Look, back off!" 

As usual, I ignored his wounded expression. I was used to being given such looks - save the bleeding heart shit for someone who gives a flying fuck. 

Turning back to the car, I walked over to the driver's side and leant in through the opened window, grabbing 452 beneath her shoulders in preparation to haul her out. Then my ears picked up on it. The sound. The sound that suggested if I didn't get her out soon, I'd lose her to the NSA and therefore my son would be forever lost too. And now that I knew he was alive, there was no way I was going to let them take her. The problem lay in the chance that it could already be too late for 452. 


	7. Payback

A/N: Whoops. After updating this chapter at TBW, GBM and Agora (am I plugging these sites? Yes I am! So click my name, and check out the links in my profile for great boards with great DA fanfic written by great writers! Go - now!) I forgot to update at ffnet and ye gods it takes hours for stories to finally show up here. Argh. But, here we are. And I'm going to take a moment to whinge. I hate geocities. Okay, I won't elaborate on that now lucky for you guys, being 3am and all. But my second whinge is this: Ames White isn't real - therefore, I'm obsessing over a person who isn't real. What does that say for mental health huh? The whinge factor being that, if I were truly insane, perhaps I could at least convince myself that he is real - like maybe as an imaginary friend that I can in fact see... Sure, that's what LSD is for, but chances are I'll see that giant bee again. Aargh. It's a strange day when I find myself wanting to be insane. Some would say I'm there already... Want to know what my point to this AN is? This is my point: Thanks to those who have reviewed!!!! And uh, I forgot to eat dinner. Doh! 

* * *

**

Chapter Seven - Payback

**

**_"They're my enemies too, so that makes me your friend. "_**

**_ - Harbour Lights_**

* * *

As I pulled the unconscious X5 free from the car, the sirens grew louder. Someone must have been watching from a window after all. Or maybe the cops hadn't given up the search as I had hoped. Either way, I didn't give a fig for the others in the car, not unless they knew where Ray was. No, my pick lay on 452. I knew her enough by now to see she was the kind of person who'd want to know every damn thing.

Slinging her body across my shoulder, I carried her to the car and placed her in the front seat beside me. Her face and body had minor lacerations, but she breathed. For now. 

Otto began to pull 452's partner in crime - 494, free from the wreck. I turned back to sneer at him, "Leave that piece of filth for the NSA."

For a moment, it seemed he couldn't decide whether to persevere in his attempt to free 494 from the mangle of twisted steel, or follow my order. 

"Come on!" I barked the words, the hand that held 452's legs dug into her skin in my attempt to hold back from pulling my gun out and aiming for his head. If he didn't move his ass soon, it'd be too late for him, or too late for my son. When it came down to chances, Otto had none. I couldn't afford his life for Ray's. Thankfully, he grudgingly moved away from the body of 494 and caught up with me as I was placing 452 in the back seat of our car.

"What's going on Sir?"

Ignoring Otto, I slid onto the drivers seat, motioning for him to hurry up. He sat down and closed the door as the first cop car turned off the main road and headed towards the wreck. Pulling out of the side street, I saw unmarked cars similar to mine, follow the cop. No longer caring if they noticed me or not, no longer caring whether I'd still have a job when I was through with 452, I pulled out from the side street and drove away. 

Questions would be asked. I just hoped Otto wouldn't be the one to answer them. He knew of my personal vendetta towards 452, he just didn't know _why _she was so important. No one knew of her significance to their futures. They knew nothing of my kind, the prophesy, the end of life as they knew it blah blah blah... As far as the average human was concerned, 452 was just another pesky transgenic. Nothing special in that.

"Sir, what are you planning to do with 452? What's going on?"

I didn't want to have to kill the guy. 

"Look Otto, the less you ask the less you know, the less you know - the better." 

But I would if I had to.

"Is this another mission I'm not cleared for sir?" Otto's voice held a trace of sarcasm. I clenched the steering wheel, wondering just how much further he would push me until I pushed him out of the god damned car. 

Damn 452. She'd taken away my son, my wife, my home... now she was taking my job. This was a situation I'd never anticipate being in. If it weren't for the fact she has information that I _needed_, I could have left her in the wreck. She'd turn up at the NSA, another transgenic to send away where it could be poked, prodded, and pulled apart. Or maybe they'd save the hassle of finding holding space by insuring she was carried from the scene in a body bag. Who knows? One of the perks of being a government official or a corrupt cop, is the flexibility of the rules. There's the 'do as I say and not as I do' mentality for you. 

I had limited options as to what I could do with her. My contacts were all familiars. They would turn us in before I had the chance to extract information. Otto seemed to sympathise with the creatures, a fact I always took efforts to ignore. But I highly doubted he'd accept the idea of me being from an ancient breeding line upon which her species were based. Nor that we were preparing to witness the end of the entire human race, upon the release of a deadly virus to which we were immune. 

Pulling over on the side of the curb, I turned to Otto.

"I need you to pretend you never saw this." I gestured to 452 on the seat behind me. "We've worked together a long time Otto, I need you to do me this favour."

I nearly tacked 'please' onto the end of the sentence. But my mouth refused to form the word. Now in hindsight I realise that perhaps I should have. Perhaps 'please' truly was the magic formula.

"Yeah. Yeah sure." He still had that kicked puppy look, but I decided I had his promise and left it at that. Then saw fit to leave him. 

"Well here's where you get out. Go back to base. Tell them... I had a family emergency."

"What?" Otto's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're kicking me out of the car?"

His expression was incredulous. The guy just didn't understand that I was doing him a favour by not killing him. But I could hardly tell him _that _could I?

"Yes Otto. Get - out - of - the - car." I punctuated each word and at last he reached for the door handle, his wide disbelieving eyes still on me. The guy had a point, here he was in a nice suit and I was forcing him to find his way home from what was one of the worst areas of Seattle. I doubted even taxi's would drive down this area.

"Do you have your phone on you?" 

He shook his head. 

"Money?"

He shook his head again.

I shoved my phone and wallet in his hands. "Here. Now go!"

Finally he moved his ass off the seat and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. If I didn't have other things on my mind, I would have been surprised at his obvious reluctance to follow my orders. Otto has a pathetically docile manner. He'd walk a tightrope in a tutu if I told him to - the guy's seen me lose my temper. He doesn't respect my orders so much as fear them. But as he sat there staring in disbelief, he seemed to have almost developed a backbone. For a moment. But ah well, he was out of the vehicle. Who cares? And so I drove on and left him there, an aghast expression imprinted upon his face.

Now I had to think of where to take 452. A motel would be too risky. I wouldn't want anyone to question her state of unconsciousness, or hear here screams upon waking. No, there was only one place where we could possibly go.

* * *

"Shut up 452, I'm no more happy about this set up than you are."

I'd sat in the chair beside the bed to which she was cuffed all through the night. There was no way I was going to let her get away. Throughout the night she had remained unconscious. I had begun to worry that the accident had caused more damage to her than I was aware of. But I was now wishing she'd never woken up.

The days that I had spent in solitude within Terminal City, had forced me to look within myself, and face some of the numerous demons that resided within me. I guess I could have been thankful to this transgenic for that. But, she had humiliated me. She had forced me to my knees before her and made me beg for my life - metaphorically at least. Therefore, I needed to drag her through every moment of torment she had put me through. With interest. 

"So what, your secret squirrel job as 'head hit man for the anti-transgenic patrol' isn't satisfying enough, now you've gotta turn all 'psycho trannie kidnapper' too?"

I gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Has it somehow escaped your attention that we're not so secret anymore?"

"What, you mean your job with the NSA? Oh no, I was talking about the _other _one. And just wait 'til it gets out about your little breeding cult. You'll be hunted _just like us_."

She flashed a brief self-satisfied smile as if thinking her silly little threat would scare me. There was no doubt that our cautious semi-truce was well and truly over.

"Oh blah blah blah 452. Can the tough talk. You're not everything you think you're cracked up to be." I laughed as I watched the fire jump back into her eyes. Why was it so easy to enjoy pissing her off?

"So what's with the handcuffs White? If I'd known we'd be in for a bit of B&D I would have remembered to bring along my whip."

I laughed out loud out that. The mental image was just so hilarious I couldn't help myself. "We've already established that's not one of your talents."

Her scowl deepened and she opened her mouth to deliver another insult, but I butted in with the question she should have been asking herself by now.

"452, have you not yet wondered exactly how you came to be cuffed to my bed?"

That shut her up. Her jaw slammed shut so quick I'm not sure if the 'thud' was real or imagined. It occurred to me that the blow to her head had wiped out all memory of the crash and events leading up to it. I almost wanted to sit on my hands to stop myself from rubbing them together gleefully. This was going to be so much fun.

"Do you remember the car crash? You were being chased by a number of cops. I saw the crash happen, I got you out of the car before anyone else arrived on the scene, and brought you here."

She was turning this information over in her head, trying to decide if she could believe me or not. The real amusement came in the fact that she still had yet to realise the significance of what I was saying. And so I continued in the hope of hammering the truth home.

"I'm sure that if I strolled into work right now I'd find your companions in holding cells waiting for transferral." 

I sighed with regret. "What I'd give to be there right now! To see their faces as I walk through the door and described in vivid detail the kind work the team at forensics do. That is, if any of your little friends survived the ride."

Ah there we go. That drove the nail in.

"Oh my god..." Her eyes widened in horror, the words escaping in a whispered outtake of breath. And then absolute panic took the place of all else as she strained to pull free of her handcuffs, as if truly believing she could break free. "Please Ames! You can't let them... you have to..."

452's words faded away as she realised the futility in trying to beg me for their lives. I was the last person in the world who would want to see them run rampant once more. It was interesting to watch her take in her surroundings in a whole new light. As if somehow this put being chained to my bed in a entirely different perspective. The control freak had finally found power taken away from her. And what better way?

* * *

"You know, you may have had the upper hand before, you may have managed to weaken me with your little mind games and your isolation tactics..." I paused in my striding and sat next to her on the bed, leaning over her so that my face hovered inches above her own. "But, I do believe that the roles have been reversed, haven't they?"

A world of fury brewed behind her eyes and anticipating its eruption, most likely in the form of a glob of spit at this point, I held my hand over her mouth and leant in closer so that my lips brushed across her ear. I was really enjoying this.

"One word, two syllables. Can ya guess?"

Beneath my palm she shook her head, conveying with those dark orbs, just how much she hated me at that point. I smiled ever so slowly.

"Payback."

The word was a soft murmur delivered by a gentle voice. My tone was an antithesis really. I had no plan to be gentle with her. "I'd say that if your chumps _are _alive, they'll be in holding cells down at the NSA. No doubt awaiting my arrival. I uh, I like to see what manner of beast I'm shipping away to its death." 

A slow dark smile spread across my face as I spoke, and I watched the anger within her mount further. I wouldn't be satisfied until I saw terror. 

"Do you know what it's like to think you've lost someone? Someone you love? Do you have any idea the anguish that comes with such uncertainty?"

She mumbled beneath my palm and I moved my hand away. "I told you before! Ray's alive. He's safe! Why are you doing this? I thought that -"

"Awww.... you thought that we could be friends? How sweet! You thought we could be buds and hang out! You know, that's cute. No really!" 

The storm clouds rolled in across her face, gaining in momentum. But she turned her head away as a look of betrayal flashed across her face like lightening.

" I may have let myself slip up in there - in Terminal City. And maybe I'd even convinced myself I felt something for you other than hatred." At that, she looked to me, eyes widening in surprise. Ignoring her reaction, I carried on towards my point. "But I'm in my own element now. And this time I won't allow myself to forget that we are, and can only ever be - enemies. And you, 4 - 5 - 2... are going to tell me where my son is."

I leant in once more and gently stroked her hair back from her face. Smiling as she shivered beneath my touch, before continuing in a venomous tone. "_Or _I will slowly but surely break you down until you are a mere _fragment _of your former self."

Her eyes narrowed and she ripped her head away from my touch, recoiling as if burnt. "What the fuck is your problem Ames? You wanna know where Ray is? Well - oh shit! You nabbed the wrong person! Cause _I'm _not the one who knows!"

As tears of frustration sprang to her eyes, she looked to the ceiling and blinked them away, her jaw tensing as she tried to hold in whatever black emotion raged within her. But her words still rested in the air and I realised that maybe she was telling me the truth. And maybe I had been a little rash in leaving her pals behind. Have I mentioned how much hindsight is a bitch yet?

For several heartbeats, I sat in silence, watching her. My eyes bored into her as she squirmed uncomfortably beneath my glare. Like a germ beneath a microscope. That was what she was after all. But for some reason, her misery didn't give me half the satisfaction I would have hoped for. In fact, my eagerly anticipated moment of revenge had lost its... thrill. 

"Okay then. Someone in your little circle has to know. Who? Telling me is the only thing that may stop you from getting killed."

"Yeah right!" She pulled at her restraints once more and glared at me in hatred. "_Not _telling you is the only thing keeping me alive!"

"I could keep you here forever. 452." 

Each time I stated her designation, she flinched. It was as if I were picking at a wound that had only just begun to heal, and causing it to fester once more. Interesting. "No one would know would they? You could be my very own... lab rat."

"You had a chance to redeem yourself White." The words were spoken in a ragged whisper as she turned her eyes away. She was breaking already and I hadn't even begun.

"Redeem myself? In your eyes? And those of you Frankenstein army?" I laughed with genuine amusement. "And I'm sure the Conclave would be understanding if I were to report in and declare I'm no longer able to fulfil my duties, because I've made friends with my prey?"

"You could have left them - started a new life."

"For you? Why should I? Would you leave your cause? Desert your own people?" She remained silent, but I pressed on. I wanted to hear an answer. "No really, would you have denounced your entire race - for me?"

At last she looked away from the wall and turned back to me. Her expression was stony, and her voice flat and cold as she replied. 

"No."

I nodded, releasing a breath I was unaware of having held. "My point exactly."

The silence grew after that and I shifted off the edge of the bed and resumed my pacing once more in effort to escape the discomfort that had settled upon me. "Tell me how I can find Ray. Who has information of his whereabouts? Tell me, and I'll let you go."

"Yeah. Right."

"I will. I give you my word. Remember what I said before? About how I'd leave the Conclave for my son?" After a moment, she nodded. "I meant that. He is the one cause that means more to me than anything else. He is the one belief I truly have."

I watched as she thought this over, her expression remaining unreadable. "And the person who _does _know. What promises can you give me regarding him. Or, her."

Once again I sat upon the bed, staring down at my hands for a moment while I thought her question over. "This person... he's one of your friends currently sitting in an NSA holding cell. Isn't he?"

She averted her eyes and said nothing.

"I can get him out. Both of them."

At this she rolled her eyes, spark relighting within her once more. "Oh whatever! So now you want me to believe that you're not only going to let me go, but you'll stroll on into the NSA and let my friends go as well? Weren't you just telling me earlier how much you'd enjoy describing to them, their future within forensics?"

What could I say? Even to myself, my promises sounded empty. "Look, I just want my son."

"Your inconsistency amazes me White. It really does. I mean, what next? You're going to begin a live autopsy on me then stop and politely ask if -"

"You're running out of time 452!" Fresh anger surged through me. This girl had a real knack for whining. "If _I _don't get to them, someone else will. Once they leave that building, they're out of my hands. Now, are we going to work together on this or are we not?!"

"Fine!" The words left her mouth in a blaze of anger equal to mine, before she'd considered what she was agreeing to. "Wait..."

Moments passed. Finally, "I'll help you get Ray back, but you have to get Alec and Logan out of that building alive!"

I nodded. "We will get them out. I need to take you down there with me."

Eyes narrowed in distrust once more. I clenched my fists in my lap. When would she realise I could kill her at whim and no one would be the wiser? "If I wanted to walk you into a trap, I'd knock you out now and carry you there over my shoulder like a sack of meat. Now, are you in or not?"

"What's the plan?"

"I take you in with me - as a captive. You need to let your chumps know that once they're free of their restraints, they're going to co-operate."

"What, we just get to stroll out of there?" Laughing, she turned to the wall once more. "Yeah. Right."

"Of course not. Your buddies will over power me when I enter the room to deliver you. And you'll leave the NSA with me as your hostage. Once we get out, we make a run to my car and return here. Then it's your turn to fulfil your half of the bargain."

"And how do you know that we won't just knock you out once we're free, and go on our merry way?"

I eyed her silently for a minute, then used her own words against herself. "It's a small matter of trust. Think you can handle that?"

"Of course!" Her voice was indignant, obviously she didn't like having her honour questioned. Good. "So when do we kick this plan into action?

I smiled, glad to see she was willing to be a team player. Removing a key from my pocket, I leant in to un-cuff her. Once free, she rubbed her wrists, her eyes conveying how much she'd love to complain about her inhumane treatment - if she thought anyone would give a flying fuck. Slowly she sat up, holding a hand to her head as dizziness overcame her. We had both forgotten her recent car accident and whatever hidden injuries it may have caused.

"Here." Taking her arms, I helped her to stand and for a moment, she leant against me, waiting for the world to stop fading out. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

Pulling back, she slowly, cautiously, nodded her head. Wincing at whatever pain such a movement caused. "They're my family."

I shrugged, wanting to make a childish 'now you know how it feels' remark, but I held it in. The next few hours or days, however long it took to get my son back, would call for co-operation. We had to get along, for now. And whether I'd decide to turn her over to the Conclave afterwards, was another matter entirely. 

I motioned for 452 to walk ahead of me, not quite trusting her enough to turn my back on her. It was my own advice after all that I had to adhere to. _Never turn your back on them._

We reached the car and I swung her round, forcing her to look me in the eye. "Remind me again that I can trust you?"

"Of course." 

Words spoken through gritted teeth. I had certainly blown any chance of redemption in this transgenic's eyes. But, what did I care? I was hardly in this to make friends. And so she settled herself on the front seat and I cuffed her to the inner door handle. She shot me a look of alarm. 

"This isn't part of the deal!"

"I'm just keeping up appearances 452, don't freak out." 

Moving over to the driver's side I slid behind the wheel and started the car. Silence descended as I pulled out from the driveway and headed towards the NSA department building. We most likely questioned our own motives, and each others. And within this silence, we would most likely formulate a plan to double-cross each other. But the ball had begun to roll, all we could do now was let it go and hope it didn't snow ball out of control

* * *


End file.
